


Repression Works, Right?

by Keymwko95



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Trigger: Suicidal Ideations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 37,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keymwko95/pseuds/Keymwko95
Summary: The past seems to repeat itself in some ways as future and present events overlap. In the future, Macy and Harry's daughter deals with her own emotional health and her powers, while in the present Harry, Macy, and Mel hunt down an unknown threat in the mountains and woods of Idaho.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 15
Kudos: 39





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Again this story really is just an amalgam of little tiny snippets and thrown out ideas which I was simply typing out as a way to take a mental break from schoolwork without leaving the computer. It has grown as I have merged different ideas together and fleshed some stuff out. This is my first time writing anything that isn't an essay for school, so I for sure know it needs work, but I hope you enjoy what I've got for you. 
> 
> Thanks to Majestrix and all-things-hacy from the Charmed Discord server for giving me feedback on my chapters.

  
Treeci knew it was bad. No, bad wasn’t a strong enough word for just how terrible, horrible, truly catastrophic this was. She hadn’t meant to do something this stupid. She _definitely_ did not intend to have hurt anyone. She wasn’t one of her trouble-prone cousins, ever curious and mischievous. She had gone fifteen years of her life without getting in trouble. 

Everyone knew that Beatrice Vera Vaughn-Greenwood was the pinnacle of obedience and good sense: the responsible one, the cheerful and loving one. The one who respected her parents and loved spending time with them. The one who trusted them and their judgment entirely, who followed every rule they set. And yet here she was, sitting on the edge of her bed, ready for the scolding to end all scolding. No, bad was not a strong enough word to describe the rage gathering between her mom’s scrunched up brow and the disappointment in her dad’s eyes as they stood, united, towering over her. 

“You crossed a line. Your _“mission”_ was beyond reckless and dangerous. It was beyond all the words. I can’t. . .” Her mother tightly pressed her lips together and swallowed whatever thought she had felt was better left unsaid.

This wasn’t fair. Treeci had put so much thought into her plan. She had researched, and pretty much accounted for everything. . . except for the one possibility she hadn’t considered. Her father put his arm around her mother soothing some of her anger, but only some. 

“Treeci, this isn’t like you. . . you could have exposed your magic –“

“She could have been **_killed_** , Harry!”

“I was going to get to that—Treeci, you could have been injured or killed . . .”

“She stole from us! Treeci, you messed around with dark magic!”

“Macy, she knows what she did.”

“But does she get that she almost released a powerful demonic being bent on revenge and destruction?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Treeci knew it was a weak excuse, although she said it with such force that it surprised her parents.

She quickly cast her gaze to the floor, a bit ashamed at the outburst. She really hadn’t intended to put anyone in danger, but the lack of ill intent did not make up for what she had done. She had messed up. She felt guilty, and yet while shifting her gaze between her and her parents’ mud-caked shoes, she could feel the rise of indignation following the quick pang of shame. She was sitting on her bed in her room. They were in her safe space, her territory, so she should be allowed to speak and explain herself. But no, right now they were doing what they do best: lecturing. Honestly, she was only partly listening: mostly wallowing in her own guilt and stupidity. 

“We didn’t expect this from you. . .”

“This is Marcel or Monse level, recklessness. . . _Not_ my kid . . .” 

“We need you to start talking to us again . . .”

“What has been going on? You . . .”

She wants to talk to them. She wishes she could be honest but isn’t sure if she can be without hurting their feelings or seeming ungrateful or like they had done something wrong. Would they understand? Maybe she shouldn’t. Would it matter if she did? They probably wouldn’t get why she wanted to fix it herself. How could they know how out of place among them she had felt; how uncomfortable in her skin she had been feeling recently? How could they understand the acute feeling of loneliness she had been experiencing all these weeks?

She looked up. They weren’t speaking anymore, just looking right back at her. Maybe this was the response and feedback portion of the lesson? This was the moment to speak. She had wanted to talk just seconds ago. But it seemed this was also the moment where all the emotions hit her at once: Sadness, fear, anger, loneliness, guilt, self-pity, and self-hatred. So, she just started bawling, and they hugged her. 

Her parents loved her; she knew that. They always encouraged her to be honest about her emotions and talk to them. But she was still afraid, still sad, and unsure how she got to this place. She wants to protect them, even if they’ll say it isn’t her job. She will talk to them. She will try to explain it even if they can’t understand . . . but not right now. Right now, she just wants to cry while her parents hold her. 


	2. Into the Woods! Or Forest. . . or Whatever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in the present. It is from Macy's POV.

“Hey Harry, I think I found the right path, going further into the forest.” Macy’s feet made a loud squelching sound as she lifted them out of the deep mud to continue down the path of broken branches and disturbed foliage.

Apparently, it had been raining—according to a family they spoke to at the Black Lake campground site—for weeks and wasn’t going to let up soon. Wasn’t Idaho supposed to be dry? What was up with the Seattle-like weather? 

Harry and Mel believed that perhaps the weather and the disappearing witches could be linked . . . it was a working theory. Macy didn’t think they had enough evidence to back it up. Mel had volunteered to stay behind at the campsite to keep an eye out. Maggie had stayed behind in the Command Center to keep watch over the Witch Board, but Macy doubted there would be any activity outside of their current location. Since Maggie’s botched wedding, Macy had been waiting for something big to happen or for a wave of demon activity, but nothing. It had been eerily calm and quiet since then. 

Macy didn’t trust it. So when a red light went off and instantly disappeared in this region on the Board, Macy had assumed this was the beginning of something big. When they came to investigate, they found nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was no body, no signs of a struggle. It happened again a few days later, and then the activity stopped. It was almost a week later before they had any information to go on. 

Mel had kept tabs on the local media for the area and found the news stories on two women, Lana Garland and Juanita Albor, who had gone missing from the Black Lake campground around the same time. Mel was the one who suggested that they all go on this camping trip to investigate. Mel was also the one who paired Harry and Macy together, despite the awkwardness between them. Probably because of the awkwardness. Either way, Macy was not a big fan of her sister right now. 

“Is this a forest? I would think it would be considered the woods, although we are in the mountains by a lake, so perhaps not. It isn’t very dense. Should we have asked the family we spoke to at the campground?” Macy swung between being annoyed at the sound of his voice and his rambling and finding them adorable. 

“Yeah, Harry, because that would have been the most important thing to ask.”

Okay, so she was apparently going to speak from the annoyed place. Harry didn’t say anything. No defense, not even a hurt look. He remained silent and continued to walk behind her. Macy wished he would snap back. Part of her felt guilty; she and Harry had been very civil since the Abigael incident. Harry made no passive-aggressive comments on Macy’s actions or feelings. Macy had avoided speaking on all the sore subjects. Their interactions remained professional, distant, and awkward. The whole situation—compounded with the unease over the lack of pandemonium on the witch-demon war front—was starting to get to her. 

“Sorry, Harry, that was rude. I’m just stressed out over . . . all this.”

Harry didn’t say anything. Macy assumed he nodded since he was behind her, and she did not feel like turning around to face him. They should talk. She knows they should. She used to be able to open to him, even if it wasn’t totally, it was more than this. This was . . . not what she wanted it to be. 

“Maybe I never will be able to really talk to him like I used to.”, she quickly pushed the painful thought away.

The urge to slow down and walk next to him bubbled within her. But that would up the chances of catching a glance at his face, and Macy just couldn’t find it in her to face him. Not right now. . . so she kept walking and Harry kept on following. 


	3. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter takes place in the Future from Harry and Macy's Daughter's POV

“Marcel! Monse! We are not supposed to be here unsupervised and without permission!” Treeci whisper-screeched through her teeth. 

Her cousins were trouble. They all knew that the attic was off-limits. It didn’t use to be, but Monse’s “accidental” mind swap with her pet rabbit and Marcel’s teacher-bloating potion incidents effectively ended all unsupervised attic time for all of them. Which to be honest hadn’t affected Treeci all that much. 

All of her attic time before the new rule had been spent with her mom and dad already. They would often call her in to watch them as they searched through magic-related tomes for information or worked on brewing a potion together. Treeci often marveled at how her parents could communicate solely in glances between each other, and it never made her feel left out. They often talked through their processes and even let her help and give feedback. She wondered if they would cease those mini-family-magic lessons if they found her and her cousins here.

“Treeci, we have to give baby Jay the full house tour, it would be rude not to.” Marcel said, bouncing their baby cousin in his arms and smugly smirking at Treeci.

Marcel was always smug and mischievous. It was to be expected considering one of his moms called him her “caramel _príncipe_ ” which made Aunt Mel cringe a bit despite the dark-skin positivity. Treeci would be lying if she didn’t admit she mostly loved her cousin’s overconfidence, which usually managed to get him out of sticky situations.

“Jay lives here, he doesn’t need a tour Marcel,” Treeci informed her cousin with a hint of _I-can’t-believe-that-is what-you-are-going-with_ in her voice. 

“He doesn’t live in the attic.” Marcel replied, and Monse snorted. 

Treeci watched nervously as Marcel held Jay and ran his free hand over the collection of potion ingredients sitting out on the table. 

“Jay, I am gonna teach you some really fun potions when you are old enough.”

“Only after I teach him the fun spells, like the one that lets you peek in on dreams. We can have a Cousin Dream Party! Does that sound fun Jay?” Monse chimed in as her eyes scanned the room. 

Treeci worried about what she was looking for.

“Monse, that is personal gain! You can’t do that, also it dangerous depending on . . . you aren’t listening to a word I’m saying,” Treeci sighed as she watched her cousin move a chair towards one of the shelves. 

Monse was most likely trying to bring down some of the magical artifacts their parents placed out of their reach—probably for a good reason. Treeci found herself torn between saying something to her and just waiting for the inevitable grounding they all would get when Monse broke something. 

“Monse, leave that stuff alone! Jay is the only baby in this room!” The urge to say something won out.

“ _You_ are thirteen,” Treeci said, pointing to Marcel, and then quickly rounded back to Monse, “and _you_ are eleven! Show some impulse control!” 

Baby Jay began to fuss. 

“Yo, Trix, stop overreacting! You are upsetting the baby,” Marcel said seriously. 

“Uncool Betty Boop, uncool, Tía Maggie won’t like that.” Monse said, stretching further until she was stepping up on the shelves.

“I am not overreacting, and I don’t like those nicknames. Monse, you are going to – “ Treeci did not get to finish the thought as the shelf panel Monse had been holding on to cracked, the contents falling onto the next board and off the shelves completely. 

For Treeci, it was happening in slow motion. The shelf panel cracking, Monse somehow managing to fall sideways and flipping herself backward—oh yeah, she is going to have a concussion at the very least—and a wooden cube somehow, against the laws of physics, bouncing to her feet and chipping one of its corners. Jay started crying. Monse lay silently on her back with a shocked expression. Treeci picked up the block of wood and turned to Marcel expectantly.

“We can fix it!” he says quickly.

There was that misplaced overconfidence that Treeci loved. She really hoped it could get them out of this jam.


	4. Something . . . Wicked?. . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry POV chapter

Harry watched as Macy lifted her feet out of a particularly muddy portion of their current location in the wood.

“Something’s wrong.” Harry whispered to himself as he began scrutinizing his surroundings.

He had been silently following Macy for about 45 minutes, and yet the surroundings felt off. No. Not off, but familiar. Eerily familiar. 

“Macy, wait.”he called out to her.

She had continued forward while he had been examining the area.

It would be a lie to say that her distant attitude didn’t hurt. Despite the tension and his previous antagonistic behavior towards her, he had hoped to move forward. Perhaps it was backwards. Back before the guilt over kissing Abigael—which he prayed would remain his secret shame—and before his aggressive comments on Macy’s judgment and feelings. Back to a place where she didn’t seem so far away from him.

“Macy, hold on...please!” he called out again.

The “please” seemed to stop her in her tracks. Harry watched her shoulders slump, then straighten as she took a deep breath before turning to face him.

“Harry, we have got to keep moving and looking for whatever clues we can.” Macy stated blandly.

He knew she was upset with him, that something in their dynamics had been broken. How could it have not, after the way he had continually spoken to her? Him on his high horse: the one he should never have claimed to be on. Harry could only imagine how Macy would react if she learned of his kiss with Abigael. But he needed to push aside those thoughts for now. Right now, they could be in danger.

“Macy, look around.” Harry said.

He watched her eyes scan the woods carefully, then widen at the realization. She walked over to him cautiously and, when she was close enough, leaned in to whisper her thoughts.

“Harry, it looks the same. There is no way we went in a circle.”

“I agree. I don’t think we have gone in a circle. I don’t think we have moved at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Close your eyes.”

Macy gave him a confused look at his demand. He merely gave her a look, which he hoped she had read as “trust me”. She looked back at him, searching for...something. Harry was unsure what, but whatever it was, she must have found it. He watched her close her eyes.

“What do you hear Macy?”, he asked. Harry watched her tilt her head slightly as if straining to listen.

“Nothing,” She replied. “Absolutely nothing.”

“What do you feel?” Harry asked.

Macy seemed to shift uncomfortably.

He continued his line of questioning, “What about smell?”

Macy’s eyes opened wide, “Nothing. There was a heaviness in the air from the rain before. I can’t even feel the coolness that had been there.”  
  
“There are no sounds of nature, no sounds of our feet stepping on branches,” Harry added

“Or squelching sounds stepping in and out of the mud,” Macy said as she realized what tipped Harry off to their current predicament.

Harry took one last assessing look around before turning to look back at Macy. They were extremely close. How had he not noticed it before? Harry gently grabbed on to Macy and attempted to orb. At first, he thought it was working, until he saw they had landed in the exact same spot. Harry could see Macy making mental notes on their situation and felt his skin warm as he realized he was still holding on to her. 

She looked expectantly at him, “What are you thinking Harry?”

It was Harry’s turn to shift uncomfortably.

He cleared his throat, “Well, if I were to venture a guess, I would say we are trapped in some sort of illusion. A subtle one, nothing very powerful or sophisticated, given its inability to mimic reality very well.”

“It doesn’t have to!” a voice echoed out.

Macy and Harry were back to back instantly, both searching for the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from everywhere.

“Sight is really the most powerful of the senses. If the image is strong, the brain fills in the rest.”, the voice echoed once more.

Harry thought he could hear a hint of smugness in the voice’s last comment. 

“Hey, why don’t you show yourself!” Macy challenged.

Harry cast a glance at her. Did she really think provoking their unknown captor was the best course? She looked back at him, silently encouraging him to do the same. Oh dear. . . he’d have to trust her on this. 

Harry joined in, “Yes, are you scared of losing in a fair fight?”

With his words, both Macy and Harry were knocked down by a gust of wind. It was as if the air was rushing back into the area in which they’d been imprisoned. Harry had been flattened on his back. He moved to flip himself onto his front.

“Who said I was looking for a fight?”

This time the voice was not distorted by whatever echo effect had been placed on it. And it had been distorted. Harry blinked in disbelief and turned to find Macy equally shocked as they stared at the person who had appeared before them. 

“You’re a kid!” exclaimed Macy. 

Harry was left speechless as he rose slowly to his feet, looking at the young girl who had managed to trap them in an illusion. She couldn’t be more than a teenager.

“Excuse you, I am a young adult.” The girl spat back venomously.

Macy gestured to her black t-shirt, which sported a rather curious looking cartoon boy in a barrel. 

“This is _El Chavo del Ocho_ , and he is a cultural icon for Mexicans, so back off.” The young girl—excuse him—young lady responded.

Harry wondered what she was doing here, seemingly on her own. While defensive in tone, her body language was slightly relaxed. She didn’t seem to see them as a threat. He had to wonder if that was a result of self-confidence in her powers or some unknown measure of precaution Macy and he should be worried about or if it was a result of youthful naivete. 

“Did she think she could take them both on, or had she let her guard down?” he thought as the young lady glared at Macy. 

“Excuse me, but what are you doing here?” Harry asked the girl hoping to cut through the animosity being directed at Macy.

“What are YOU doing here?” she replied, staring Harry down. 

Macy scoffed, “That’s mature for a young adult.” 

“It was a serious question, you two are the ones who aren’t supposed to be here.”, the girl replied with an ingenuine smile. Harry thought of asking for an explanation but did not manage to get a word in before the young woman spoke out once again.

“ _Mira_ , this a dangerous place to be right now, and I was trying to protect your butts. I didn’t know you were magical until you tried to orb.”

Harry and Macy remained silent. The girl let out a sigh.

“Look, I’m Beatriz.” She said, gesturing to herself then expectantly to Macy and Harry.

Harry and Macy glanced at each other. Silently going back and forth on whether they should trust this teenaged girl or not.

They must have been too slow to respond because Beatriz spoke again, “Follow me.”

They did. And Harry couldn’t help but notice, and be grateful, that he and Macy were now walking side by side. 


	5. The Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Treeci POV

They were lucky. Well, Treeci’s cousins were lucky. Monse was lucky that Treeci was proficient enough in her healing powers that Monse wouldn’t have to suffer through a concussion. Marcel was lucky that Treeci had remembered that there was glamour powder stocked in the house. Treeci was hesitant to use it rather than confess to the adults. Didn’t glamouring a broken shelf to avoid punishment count as personal gain? 

Marcel argued it was self-preservation, “Our moms will kill Monse and me if they find out! This is a life and death situation.”

Treeci was certain only Aunt Mel could/would actually kill them, but Marcel seemed to have been right about the personal gain nature of their actions. A week had gone by, and everything seemed normal. Their parents hadn’t sensed that anything was amiss. There did not seem to be any cosmic consequences for their use of the powder. The cousins only prayed that when the glamour eventually wore off, they would all be out, and it would look like the old shelves just gave out on their own. But to say nothing was off wasn’t accurate. 

Treeci had been nervous and avoidant. She began orbing to school early in the morning rather than waiting for her parents or one of her aunts to take them all. She did leave a note for her parents, she still had some manners, but Treeci no longer got to enjoy her dad’s early morning muffins. She didn’t get to enjoy any of her mom’s weekend baked goods as she made excuses to stay away from home as much as possible. She had even begun heading to the public library and eating dinner at—her father would shudder—fast food establishments.

Treeci wasn’t just avoiding her parents, but her cousins too. It would be a lie to say this wasn’t tough for her. Her parents and her cousins were her best and only—if she was honest—friends. She missed them, but she couldn’t face them. They didn’t know. They had no idea that she, the rule-stickler, broke the first rule of the attic: Never take anything out.

It was a practical rule. Treeci knew that. If they were continually taking books or ingredients from the attic and not putting them back, you might not be able to find what you need in an emergency. But it was a plain wooden block, totally unremarkable and unnecessary to any emergency situation she could imagine, and Treeci was known for having a good imagination. 

She really hadn’t meant to keep the block. She slipped it in her pocket when she thought about the glamour powder and moved to grab it. It was a reflex, but she should have returned the block to the glamoured shelf like she had the other items. Why hadn’t she?

Physically, it was utterly unremarkable. There were no markings on it: no glyphs, runes, etc. It wasn’t hollow or hiding anything inside. She had cast several spells on the block to reveal any secrets. She even looked through multiple magical tomes—with her parents’ permission—searching for matching descriptions of the item. But nothing. 

It was just a wooden block, but when she lifted it off the ground . . . she felt something. Not a tingle or physical sensation per se, more like a humming in the back of her head. It was familiar. It felt similar to the time she accidentally used her power, her non-Whitelighter power. Only unlike that disaster moment, no one ended up hurting someone else when she touched that block . . . but that is neither here nor there. Since she initially picked up, that sensation hadn’t happened again. But she still kept it. Had it been worth taking? Here she was hiding from her family in a Taco Bell while eating some mediocre hard shell “tacos” for the fourth time in one week—okay, she kinda liked the mediocre tacos—all for a wooden block that was pretty much useless. 

Treeci finished up her meal and pulled out the wooden block from her pocket. Was it weird that she carried it around? Well, she couldn’t leave it in her room. What if her parents saw it? What if her cousins found it while going through her stuff—they claimed they didn’t do that, but she knew otherwise—and told her aunts or her parents. Treeci clenched the wood cube in her hand. There was no humming or other sensation. She gripped harder, trying to coerce some sort of reaction out of the inanimate object. Nothing.

Had she broken it? Had the sensation been a result of its corner chipping? Maybe it wasn’t the cube at all? Perhaps her powers had just reacted? The whole situation had been stressful at the time; maybe it triggered them in some way? Maybe. . .

_"Maybe it was all in your head, and you’re just overreacting like always?”_

__

Treeci’s eyes widened at that thought, unaware of where it came from. She returned the block to her pocket and began gathering her trash.

__

“Please don’t tell me that this is where you’ve been eating all your dinners.” It had been said half-jokingly and half-admonishingly, and fully in a British accent.

__

Treeci wondered if her dad would find it suspicious if she ran out the door or tried to crash through one of the windows. . . probably. She slowly turned to face him. There he stood, holding a shopping bag from the bookstore across the street, and smiling at her lovingly. Ugh, she could die from guilt. 

__

“Hey Dad, whatcha got there?”, Treeci asked nervously smiling and pointing to the bag in his hand.

__

It was a blatant attempt at avoiding answering his question. A totally non-smooth preempting of any questioning her reasons for being out of the house so often this week. She knew her dad saw through this. She could tell from the way his eyes softened and could see the hint of sadness in them. But he didn’t make a move towards her. He kept his distance, and that was a relief to her. 

__

“Oh, this!”, he said in a falsely cheerful voice.

__

Treeci was glad he was playing along.

__

“Actually, it is a gift for you.” Her dad replied, holding out the bag to her.

__

She slowly took it as her dad gestured towards the table for them to sit. Yes, she could really die from guilt at this very moment. 

__

As Treeci sat, she pulled her gift from the bag. It was . . . a journal? A fancy grey, leather journal. Treeci hadn’t realized bookstores still sold journals. To be fair, she didn’t frequent bookstores. Her attic was practically a magical library and the public library had free non-magical books. Plus, with the internet, you didn’t need to buy any information anywhere, right? Treeci looked at her dad and saw the soft-eyed, expectant, and happy look on his face. It both melted and hurt her heart.

__

“It’s beautiful Dad, but why a journal?” she asked. 

__

Her father leaned in closer and spoke softly, “Your mother and I thought it would be useful for you to keep a journal of your training start to finish.”

__

Her training? Treeci was a bit lost. She had begun training on her Whitelighter powers as soon as she displayed them. Her dad said the control she had of her orbing and healing powers was top notch. So why would she...unless he was talking about . . . he couldn’t be talking about. . . no way. She stared at her father, searching for some sort of confirmation of her thoughts. He simply nodded. 

__

“Treeci, We feel that maybe it is time you moved beyond control and suppression of your telepathy. You’ve done so well this year, and we know you are ready for this.” Treeci could hear the pride in his voice as he told her this.

__

She was beginning to feel a bit suffocated by guilt. He shouldn’t be proud of her. She should crack and tell him what she did, and then he’d know just how not proud of her he should be. She didn’t deserve his praise.

__

_“They’ll never trust you again after what you did.”_

__

Bad thought. Was it true? She could feel her breathing accelerating. She had begun alternating between pulling at her fingers and rubbing her hands together roughly. 

__

“Dad, I don’t know if I am ready to jump into working on that yet. I mean, Mom said, my power was super dangerous. Plus, I didn’t like the last time I accidentally used it, and—”

__

“Treeci, you need to relax.”

__

“I am relaxed.”

__

Maybe it was the haste at which she replied to him or the tenseness of her tone, but her father let out a soft chuckle. He looked at her with an expression of fondness as his hands moved to still hers. 

__

“You won’t be starting off using your power,” her father said, still holding her hands. 

__

“Your Mother and I have found several tomes on the subject of telepathy-based powers, and we’ve even acquired some journals of telepathic witches in which they heavily write about their power and its growth. You'll start by studying those.”

__

Treeci pulled her hands away from her father’s and cast her gaze down. She needed space. She needed some distance.

__

“Dad, I just. . . I mean . . . I’m not...Do you guys really think I am ready?”

__

“We have no doubts over your capabilities. We trust in you completely.”  
  
If Treeci hadn’t already been crumbling, her father’s response would have been the catalyst. She felt his hand on her shoulder. She cautiously returned her gaze towards him. He was smiling his signature Dad Smile, the one that always made her feel good about herself. Only this time, it wasn’t. He rose from his chair and motioned for them to leave. Once again, she gathered her trash and personal belongings, and then they began to walk home together. 

__

She loved going on walks with her dad. She liked getting to walk side by side and talking about anything and everything. It was always a good experience, especially in the evenings when the streets were practically deserted, and she didn’t feel self-conscious about any skipping or random dance moves she may do while trying to make her dad laugh. 

At this moment, walking with her dad was not fun. Right now, she felt unable to stand walking by his side. She began to fall further and further behind him as they made their way back home in silence. Her dad took notice. After a while, he spoke to her—thankfully— as he continued to lead on. 

__

“Treeci, if something is wrong you know you can speak to your mother and I—”

__

“Dad, my feet hurt I think I’m just going to orb back home since there isn’t anyone else around.”

__

Treeci orbed to her room before he could get a word in. She had never orbed away from her dad before. She had never shut him down when he tried to ask her about her life or her feelings. She knew what she just did hurt him. It hurt her too.

__

_“You are a terrible daughter.”_

__

She was. Wasn’t she?

__


	6. Beatriz Get Your . . . Woodblock?

“You brought us to a tent-for-one in the middle of the woods.” Macy said, unimpressed. They had followed this girl—for what felt like forever—up a relatively steep hill, only to be led to a teeny campsite with an even teenier tent. Macy turned to Harry, who just shrugged. Beatriz continued forward through the campsite towards the tent. She made no acknowledgment of Macy’s words and proceeded to unzip the tent’s entrance. Beatriz pulled two folding chairs from it. 

“How did those fit in there?” Macy wondered.

What was this girl up to? Macy wasn’t even sure what this girl was. She could be a demon or some sort of human-like monster. She could be the thing they were trying to track down. If Macy learned one thing from her experience with Abigael, it was not to let her guard down. 

Beatriz set up the chairs around her small campfire and then gestured to Macy and Harry to sit. Harry looked to Macy for direction, and neither moved. Beatriz rolled her eyes. 

The young girl turned to address Harry, “Oye _Inglaterra_! Are you gonna take a seat, or do you and your girlfriend have to talk about it first?”

Macy scowled. She didn’t dare look in Harry’s direction. From her peripheral vision, Macy could see him walk towards the chairs. She watched as he took a seat. Beatriz just smiled self-contentedly at Macy.

“Are you scared of a chair?” Beatriz teased.   
  
“I’m not going to be provoked by a child.” Macy replied

“Fine, you can stand over there while the Brit and I have a good convo over here about the big baddie in the woods.” 

Macy was apparently going to be provoked by a child. She practically stomped her way to take her seat next to Harry. Beatriz stood in front of Macy and Harry as if about to give a lecture in a classroom.

“Okay, Q and A time, who wants to go first?” Beatriz said nonchalantly. 

Macy was tense in the chair. Macy’s personal issues already had her on edge, and Beatriz was only further irking her. She was pulled from her seething by the sound of Harry clearing his throat. She turned to face him, seeing his let-me-handle-this-one look. She conceded to letting him do the talking...for now.

“Well, why don’t I start. What did you mean when you said we were the ones that weren’t supposed to be here?” Harry calmly asked.

“Really Harry? That’s the first question you are going to ask? Not who and what exactly are you, and why did you trap us in an illusion for an hour?!?” Macy thought to herself. 

It seemed as if her annoyance was planning on sporadically showing up during interactions where Harry was involved. She hoped it wasn’t written on her face. Given the what-did-I-do-wrong-face Harry was making, she assumed it was. 

“You really don’t want me to start listing things, Harry.” Macy bitterly thought

Macy felt Beatriz staring amusedly between them as if reading her thoughts. Crap! Macy really hoped this girl didn’t have any mind-reading capabilities. 

“Mira, I am gonna give you the condensed version. My friend Neeta is an empath, a sensitive one.” Beatriz said that last part with such a forced air of indifference that Macy suspected there was something more there, but she did not interrupt her to ask about it.

“Neeta started feeling depressed. We thought it was just the weather—”

“The weather?” Macy interjected. Beatriz did not seem to appreciate the question.

“The weather can influence people’s emotions. Rainy days, making for gloomy days. I imagine a sensitive empath, not in complete control of her powers, would pick up on all the negativity emanating from everyone. Perhaps even be overwhelmed by it?” Harry postulated, looking to Beatriz for confirmation. 

Beatriz nodded and continued where she left off, “Anyways, after like awhile Neeta realized that it wasn’t just the weather. She realized that she was feeling the worst when standing close to Lana, her manager at the Human Bean. I guess her manager had it rough recently . . . Neeta was worried, especially when Lana told her she was planning on taking the weekend off for some camping and self-care at Black Lake.”

Macy could see the shift in Beatriz’s attitude and tone as she continued. The casualness with which she spoke and held herself seemed to melt away and shift to an air of gravity. 

“Neeta said Lana’s emotions were distant, off, and like weak. Neeta said her thoughts were fuzzy—and no, I don’t know what she meant by that. Neeta was nervous. She thought maybe her boss wasn’t coming here for some R and R. She freaked when Lana ended up not coming back at all.”

Macy watched as a pang of guilt flashed across Beatriz's face. She and her friend blamed themselves. It took Macy back to the unknown witch who had crossed in front of their car when they were on their way to rescue Layla. Macy’s felt her heart painfully constrict thinking about this teenage girl carrying that kind of burden. 

As if sensing her sympathy, Beatriz quickly moved on, “So we did some research and based on how Neeta’s powers acted up, we figured we were dealing with some sort of Emo parasite.”

“Emo parasite?” Macy could hear the confusion in Harry’s voice as he said it. Good, they were both lost. 

“Yeah, it’s what we call demons that feed off negative thoughts and emotions. They don’t seem like they’d be a big deal, but they can be deadly.” Beatriz said.

“What do you mean can be deadly?” Macy asked.

“In general, these demons feed off negative emotions through touch and proximity. While the weaker of these demons leave their victims physically and emotionally drained, the more powerful ones do indeed act as parasites. They create psychic connections with their “hosts” and exploit the link between them by creating continual emotional distress to feed off of until the host. . .most people cannot withstand the continual. . .” Harry trailed off from his explanation.

“Well, the deadly ones tend to be very rare. Also, the proper term for them is –”

“ _Inglaterra_ , nobody cares. Plus, I’m trying to keep this story short.”, Beatriz abruptly interrupted Harry. “Point is, that Neeta and I figured out a way to stop it.”

Beatriz walked over to her tent and proceeded to reach in for something. She pulled out . . . a woodblock? Macy wondered how that was going to stop a demon.

“The woodblock is enchanted; the wood siphons the negative psychic energy and the shape-the four pointed and connected corners—keep it contained. All we gotta do is get close to the demon and say a little spell. The block will drain all those bad vibes the demon is putting out, leaving it weak, and then we kill it. Once that is done, we find a safe spot for the block to be until all that energy it siphoned dissipates on its own.”

“And how were you planning on finding this demon. It could be anywhere. It feeds over the psychic connection. It doesn’t have to be anywhere near its victim.”, asked Harry.

“Well, Mansplainer, that’s why I cut school, and Neeta got time off to search for Lana—or at least her body—so we can find this demon.” Beatriz condescendingly said to Harry. 

“How would her body help you find the demon?” Macy asked.

Beatriz hesitated. Macy wondered why, considering Beatriz’s candor and openness so far. 

“I’m a telepath. We thought that maybe, I would be able to sense and trace whatever was left of the link to wherever the demon is.”

“Isn’t telepathy just a type of mind walkie-talkie?” Macy hadn’t said the words harshly. She hadn’t intended to put down Beatriz's power, but she knew as soon as the words left her lips that she had done so. Beatriz's demeanor seemed to tense.

“Yeah, I can send my thoughts to other people’s minds. I can also influence thoughts and actions with small suggestions. I can mess with heads by superimposing a pretty picture of a forest in their brains and make them think they have been moving forward when they’ve actually been trapped.” Beatriz's eyes narrowed at Macy, and she closed the distance between herself and Macy. 

Beatriz leaned down close to Macy’s face, “With a good amount of focus and will power, I could high-jack your brain and force you to do things you don’t want to do. On a bad day, I could destroy your mind.” 

Macy remained silent at Beatriz’s invasion of her personal space. Macy felt Harry’s hand on her shoulder. Somewhere in all this, he had stood up and moved close to her. He had positioned himself close enough to step between Beatriz and her if necessary. Beatriz also took notice of this. She slowly backed away and took a deep breath, probably to calm herself.

“And on a good day, I can peek into a brain without anyone feeling a thing. That’s why Neeta and I came out here. It’s why I am waiting here for her and making sure no one wanders too far from the main campground areas. She said that she would find Lana and then come get me. . . but it’s been a while. Why don’t you two take my post while I go looking for Neeta?”

Macy’s stomach dropped at the words, “it’s been a while.” She looked over at Harry and knew from his expression that he was also thinking of the second dot, which had faded off the Witch Board. 

“Neeta . . . Is she Juanita Albor? The other missing person.” Harry cautiously asked.

“SHE’S NOT MISSING!!!” Beatriz snapped, but then quickly regrouped herself and reverting back to her original disinterested attitude.

“She is just still out there looking. She won’t come back until she finds Lana, so I gotta go help.”

“My sister is back at one of the main campground sites keeping an eye out!” said Macy hurriedly as the young witch began to walk away further into the woods. 

“I could text her to broaden her lookout route, and we could help you.”

Beatriz seemed to be considering Macy’s offer, “Okay, but you’ve got to unclench, and _Inglaterra_ needs to stop with the sad puppy vibe. You two are really bringing me down.”


	7. The Annoyance

It was a horrible day. Not in the sense that it had been a day full of awful events—although it had—but in the real sense: the weather sense. For about two weeks now, the sky had been dark grey and the wind had been seriously cold.   
  
“April showers! Spring has arrived.” Her dad said as he joyfully set up one of the old board games for their Family Fun Night. His enthusiasm made Treeci’s mom and her Aunt Maggie chuckled as they sat on the couch. Treeci’s other aunts would have smiled at her dad’s comment if they weren’t off dealing with some sort of issue in the magical community. Treeci, on the other hand, remained unaffected by his words or attitude. 

“This doesn’t feel like spring at all”, Treeci thought as she passed a bowl of popcorn to Monse. 

They both sat on the floor next to their Aunt Maggie’s feet. Springtime was a happy time with rain showers that left the air smelling fresh and clean. It wasn’t supposed to be rain pours of biblical proportions that kept her confined in a house she did not want to be in.

_"There you go again being dramatic, can’t you ever just relax?”_

Treeci no longer tried to silence the evil thoughts that would drift into her mind now and then. Although, it seemed now and then was becoming always and often. 

“TREECI!!”, Marcel yelled, startling Treeci and eliciting a reprimand from the adults in the room. 

Treeci hadn’t even noticed that Marcel had entered the room and sat on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“What?!? I’ve been talking to her, and she isn’t paying attention!” Marcel complained

“She never leaves her cave or talks anymore; she should at least listen to us when she is out!”

Monse shifted uncomfortably on the floor, while Aunt Maggie and Treeci’s dad attempted to assuage Marcel’s outburst. Treeci was offended. She resented that Marcel and Monse started referring to her room as a cave. 

She rarely left the room except to eat at the table in relative silence. They weren’t wrong in making that comparison, but Treeci still hated it. She wasn’t going to just sit there and listen to him whine. She got up to leave, unwilling to be goaded by her younger cousin.

" _Coward, you can’t even defend yourself.”_

“That’s right! Just go back to your cave!”, screeched Marcel in reaction to her attempts at escape. 

“GO JUMP OFF A CLIFF!” Treeci hollered back. 

“Hey! That is not okay.” Treeci’s mother snapped.

Treeci flicked her head in her mother’s direction. 

“But it's okay for him to yell at me?!” Treeci snapped back

Treeci could tell her mom was shocked the way she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows before responding, “No it's not, but you both need to calm down—”

“You need to Leave. Me. Alone!” spat Treeci. 

Treeci’s mom rose from the couch, anger expressed clearly on her face. The air in the room had changed; it was heavy and everyone in the room remained silent. Treeci knew she had crossed a line. 

_“You are a horrible daughter.”_

Treeci’s mom pressed her lips together, calculating her words before speaking, “I am going to give you a moment to remember that I am your mother, and it is not okay for you to talk to me like that. Try again.”

It was as if a dam of rage had broken inside of Treeci when her mother spoke. She stomped off to her room, ignoring her dad’s calls for her to return. Why were they defending Marcel when he had started it? 

She slammed her door when she got to her room. She hoped her parents heard it. She hoped the whole neighborhood—No! The entire state heard it. Everyone should know how furious she was. Treeci locked the door for good measure before throwing herself on her bed. 

_"Why are you so petty?”_

She wasn't petty. Was she? Marcel had attacked her, and she just defended herself.

_“Attacking you? Defending yourself? He told you to go back to your room, you basically told him to kill himself.”_

She had told him that. A colossal wave of remorse washed over her. Treeci loved Marcel, she didn’t want anything to happen to him ever. She had never talked to him like that before. They had never spoken that way to each other, not really. Not to hurt each other’s feelings. Something was off. Something felt . . .broken. Had she been the one to break it? What exactly had been broken? Her relationship with her family? Her ability to communicate? 

_“Yourself”_

No. That was a thought she needed to push away. She couldn’t let it linger in her mind. She wasn’t broken. So what if she had been having trouble tapping into her telepathy? So what if none of the books and journals held an answer to her power problems? She was just on edge. She just needed space. No. She needed to return that stupid wood block to the attic. 

It was the guilt. That was it. Treeci’s guilt must be interfering with her powers. If—no—once she slips it back into the attic, her guilt will disappear. She won’t have to hide from her parents or cousins. She won’t be so sensitive and reactive. She won’t say mean stupid things. Yes, things will get better once she returns the cube to its rightful place atop the—surprisingly—still glamoured shelf. Yup, everything will go back to the way it was before.

_“And if it doesn’t?”_


	8. Conceal Don't Feel . . .Wait, What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry POV

They had been out searching for close to five hours. The sun was beginning to set, and Harry pondered upon the various—yes, various—worst-case scenarios of this search party. He was well aware that if they did find Neeta, they would not find her alive. Harry knew Macy reached the same conclusion. Yet, neither of them had attempted to discuss this reality with Beatriz.  
  
“I’m going to search just a little bit further ahead by . . . whichever lake is supposed to be there according to this thing,” Macy said, holding the map Beatriz had handed Macy from her overstuffed backpack when they first left the small campsite. 

Macy continued, “It's getting late, head in the same direction in a little bit, then Harry can orb us back to your campsite. Sound good?” 

“No, that does not sound good.” Harry thought. He gave her a look, which he hoped said: _“It’s dangerous out there, and please, for the love of God, do not leave me alone with her!_ ” 

Whatever the look was able to communicate to her, the result was unsatisfactory. Macy merely walked on after Beatriz handed her a torch from the inside of the backpack.

It took everything within him not to call out and challenge her plan directly. He had faith in Macy’s ability to defend herself should the occasion call for it, but they had no idea what was out in these woods—if that indeed was the correct term. Something got to Neeta. It was entirely possible the culprit was not the demon that had attached itself to Lana. Also, Harry was extremely uncomfortable with the thought of being alone with Beatriz. The elephant—that was Neeta’s life status—in these woods weighed heavily upon him.  
  
In all honesty, Harry was quite afraid of how Beatriz may respond to any suggestion that she should prepare herself for the worse, let alone outright informing her that her friend was gone. Although the young lady was relatively small of stature and seemed to be mostly a beginner in her powers—powers which Harry knew would be little threat despite Beatriz’s intimidation tactics—He had a feeling that such a revelation may trigger a dangerous reaction. How dangerous and for whom he wasn’t sure. 

In every horrible scenario that Harry imagined, someone different was hurt or worse. Harry thought back to the almost altercation that Beatriz had tried to provoke with Macy. He had prepared to step in to keep Beatriz from getting thrashed, although he doubted Macy would have seriously injured the teen. Either way, Beatriz seemed like a relatively volatile and reckless person, who could put herself, Macy, and himself in grave danger should her emotions run too high. It didn’t seem fair for Macy to be able to escape and leave him alone with the weight of that. 

_“That’s always been your problem; you want things to be fair. How dreadfully boring.”_

Harry could feel his Darklighter’s words ricocheting within his brain. He worked hard at pushing away the memories of their last encounter, all those things Jimmy had said, but they remained and bubbled over at the most inopportune moments. Like now. 

“ _Mira_ , I thought you were coming to help look for Neeta, not space out,” Beatriz said, abruptly pulling Harry from his thoughts. 

When Harry turned to her, he had expected a disapproving sneer; instead, he was met with a tired, almost sad look. Beatriz’s whole posture seemed utterly changed from that of the young lady they had met only hours before. Her arms were folded in an almost protective hug around herself, fingers scratching at her arms. A stiff and straight posture of anxiety replaced her original relaxed stance of confidence. If he didn’t know better, Harry might think they were different people. 

Beatriz deflected his gaze and hesitantly began to speak, “Mira, I’m not going to hurt you or Elsa over there.”

“Elsa?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Yah Elsa, because you know, she is obviously all conceal, don’t feel. Repressed, kinda like you.”

Harry’s face scrunched up at her words. He felt the need to defend both himself and his charge, but Beatriz was quick to add on to her previous statements.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. Repression works, right?.”

What Beatriz said had triggered warning alarms in his head. He was taken aback by her words. It might be hypocritical since Harry was no stranger to repressed feelings, but he found Beatriz’s words disheartening. She seemed much too young to hold such opinions; then again, she was a telepath.

“Telepathy is like the worst power ever, you know that right?”, said Beatriz

“How so?” Harry asked, although he assumed she was about to go into a tirade about the uselessness of telepathy.

In Harry’s experience, Macy’s earlier comment about the power of telepathy being a glorified walkie-talkie was more or less accurate. Telepathy was a rather rare gift, and a difficult one to advance. He had only met a handful of witches with the power of telepathy—none had been his charges—most could only send simple thoughts and warnings into the minds of others. Some had mastered the ability to make small behavioral suggestions, which could be accomplished through simple enough spells. No telepath, that he knew of in his time as a whitelighter, had managed to advance to the more legendary of the telepathic powers such as mind control and mind destruction. 

“For one, it is the only power that makes you more vulnerable,” said Beatriz

Harry thought it evident that Beatriz needed a friendly ear. He gestured to the ground as an invitation to sit. She took it, and he sat next to her, making sure to keep enough personal space between them as not to spook her. Beatriz seemed the sort whose personal bubble was quite large unless she was trying to “get in your face” as Maggie would say. 

Beatriz took a deep breath and continued, “Empaths powers are tied to emotions, they read minds because most thoughts are bound with some sort of emotion. They feel what another person feels, but they usually can separate outside feelings and thoughts from their own.”

Harry gave her a small nod to continue. 

“Telepathy is a mind-based power, and the mind is like super guarded. To overcome the mind's natural defenses, not including any magical ones, you need extreme focus and strength of will to actually do anything over a telepathic connection.”

Harry knew this already. That is why all spells and powers that affected the mind were often extremely painful for the one affected. He internally cringed, remembering his time under Fiona’s control, and his relatively unpleasant mind-meld with Abigael. 

“Telepath brains have like zero to a few defenses. It's why we can make those psychic connections super easy, but our minds are exposed when we do this. When I first got my powers, I thought I lost control of my mouth. I’d be talking to someone I was ticked off with, and they’d get pissed at something I was pretty sure I just said in my head. It was like people were reading _my_ mind. It sucks. I have to focus so hard and be strong-willed to be able to influence minds and trying to enter someone’s thoughts is tingly and numbing. But if I’m not careful and accidentally make a connection, my brain is pretty much out there for anyone who wants to mess with it.”

Beatriz started to become more impassioned as she went on. Harry wondered if there was some resentment in her voice.

“Build your defenses and learn control. That’s what my whitelighter used to say. Repressing gets to be second nature because you have to repress and guard everything, good and bad, to keep it all safe.”  
  
Harry decided she was most definitely bitter about her powers, but for all the bitterness she was radiating, he was impressed with the young lady’s bravery and spirit.

“You know that makes what you are willing to do all the more brave.” This time it was her turn to be astounded by something he said. She looked away from him and began rifling through her pack.

She pulled out another torch. Harry hadn’t realized just how dark it was getting.

Harry continued, “You must have been aware that if you and Neeta had found Lana’s body and you managed to tap into any lingering connection, you would be left vulnerable to the demon.” 

“Yeah, I knew, but we have to stop this thing, it’s what’s right. Doing the right thing isn’t brave. Doing the right thing is just something you should do no matter what. That’s another thing my whitelighter used to say.” Beatriz said, returning to an ingenuine tone of casualness. 

“Who was your whiteligher? Perhaps I knew them.” Harry asked.

"Eugenie Beramgoto. She was my whitelighter and my foster mom too, technically.” Beatriz replied.

Harry blinked in surprise, not over who Beatriz whitelighter was, and not over the fact Beatriz was a foster child. He was shocked that she was a foster child whose guardian had been a whitelighter which meant . . .

“Who has been taking care of you, since you no longer have your whitelighter?” Harry asked in as gentle and unpanicked a tone as he could. 

“Neeta, she been really cool. Like a big sister. “Beatriz's voice seemed to break a little, though she quickly recovered, “Eugenie left me with Neeta, who was her charge before me when she got some sort of call from other whitelighters. She didn’t come back.”

“She is all alone.”, thought Harry. His heart began to sink even further thinking about the implications of Neeta’s death. Macy and He, perhaps even Mel, would have to discuss how they were going to tell Beatriz. If they had to tell her. Perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps Neeta was fine. Perhaps there was some other witch that could be missing, and no one has reported it yet. Perhaps—

“Harry!” Macy’s voice rang out inside Harry’s head. 

“Macy’s calling me, wait here for a moment.” Harry said to Beatriz before orbing away

Harry materialized by Macy’s side. His attention was immediately drawn to the spot where she was shining her torch. There were three bodies piled on top of one another. Three. It was then he realized that Beatriz had never said that Lana was a witch. 

It was looking at the extensive damage to all three that he realized this was not, could not be, solely the work of an “emo parasite”. Something was very wrong in these woods.


	9. The Anger

“Have we ever gone camping?” Treeci asked her family as she was in line and loading food onto her dinner plate.   
  
It had been a week since the Family Fun Night Fiasco, and since she returned the woodblock to its proper place. While her guilt over hiding the object was more or less gone. Her relationship with her cousin had not improved. The truth was that all her relationships were worse. Her question was pretty much the first thing she had said to anyone that week. 

Her Aunt Maggie chuckled as she scooped some mashed potatoes onto her plate before taking a seat at the table, “No way! We are not an outdoorsy people. Unless we are dealing with wood nymphs or hunting down evil creatures, we stay at home or in Disney World Resorts.”

“Tía Mimi! We should take Jay to Disney World!!!” squealed Monse as she cut in front of Treeci to grab a dinner roll. 

“Yah, We can all go on another family vacation while Treeci stays in her room.”, said Marcel with more than a hint of bitterness from his seat at the table.

Treeci bit her tongue while she added some corn to her plate. Treeci’s dad put a hand on Marcel’s shoulder as he sat next to him. 

“Now, that is quite enough Marcel, do we have to call your mothers again?” Treeci’s dad said in a kind, but forceful tone. 

Marcel shook his head in response. 

“Do you want to go camping?” asked Treeci’s mom as she brought out pitchers of water and fruit punch and placed them on the table. 

“I don’t think so. I just couldn’t remember if we had or not.” Treeci softly replied

Treeci had hoped that her family would have said that they had gone camping once when she was too young to remember. At least then, her recent dreams of lakes and trees would have made sense. Aunt Maggie was right, they weren’t the outdoors type of people, and Treeci had never entertained the idea of going camping before. So why was she dreaming of nature for the last few days? 

The dreams were so vivid too. The images of the wet forest floor and the dark murky lake so clear and detailed that Treeci could almost believe it was a real place from a memory. But, she guessed that was out now that she had confirmation that they have never, ever gone camping. Treeci looked at her plate and decided to take another scoop of mashed potatoes.   
  
“Well now, you are aware that there is plenty of food and you may grab some more after you finish the first round? No need to crowd the plate.” Treeci’s dad said jokingly. 

Treeci bit her lip in worry. She didn’t want anyone to blow up at her like last time.

_“Coward, too scared of what they think when they don’t even really care about you.”_

“I was just planning on eating this in my room. I’ve got lots of homework” Treeci said trying not to make eye contact with anyone. 

“I think you should eat here with all of us.” Treeci’s mom said carefully.

“Why?” asked Treeci in a terse tone.

“There’s that awkward and tense shift in the atmosphere again.” thought Treeci as everyone stiffened in their chairs. 

Treeci’s mother looked like she was about to rip her new one, but it was her dad who spoke.

“Treeci, we eat dinners together. We always have. Homework can wait.” He said calmly to appease both Treeci and his wife. 

_“They don’t care about what you want.”_

“So what I want to do doesn’t matter. Good to know.” Treeci retorted

Her dad shook his head and raised his hand defensively as if to block her tone, “That isn’t the case at all, and you know it. There is no need for attitude.”

_“You are a disappointment to them.”_

“Being upfront about what I want and asking questions is not me having an attitude. I’m sorry if I’m disappointing you by not going with whatever you want like always.” snapped Treeci.

“Woah, That’s enough. Just go to your room, we'll be up in a bit to have a talk.” Treeci’s mother spoke out. 

And so Treeci found herself in her room and sitting on her bed with a plate of food she no longer had the appetite to touch. She couldn’t help but think back to the images from her dreams. Out in the wild alone and away from her family sounded tempting. She looked at her room door and proceeded to get up to lock it.  
  
Her mom and dad could have a talk with her some other time.   



	10. Left Behind... by Some

When Macy called for Harry, and he saw the body pile, he argued that they should not bring Beatriz to them. He wanted to just tell her and not risk traumatizing her anymore. But Macy knew, she just knew, that this was something Beatriz would want to see—no, needed to see—or else she wouldn’t accept it. 

Macy wasn’t sure what she had expected. She hadn’t known Beatriz a full day. Macy had no basis for forming any sort of picture of how the teen would react to seeing bent and broken bodies; to seeing the dead body of a friend. Macy wouldn’t have imagined that this teenage girl would take one look at the pile, take a deep breath, and simply approach the bodies. Harry had tried to stop her, but she swatted him away. She squatted right beside the pile.

Beatriz proceeded to examine the bodies intensely. Harry stood behind her: still and silent. Macy stood in front of her, shining her flashlight on the pile. Partly to make sure the girl was okay, and partly to see Beatriz’s powers in action. 

Beatriz shut her eyes in concentration. After what felt like an eternity, Macy could see Beatriz’s face turn red as all her muscles tensed. Macy could even see veins on the sides of Beatriz’s forehead becoming more pronounced as she strained, trying to mentally grasp at . . . anything. Beatriz’s body started to shake. Macy watched as Beatriz gripped tightly to the sides of her head. Beatriz was obviously in pain and yet didn’t show any signs of stopping. It was Harry that eventually told her that enough was enough. 

Macy expected for this to be Beatriz’s breaking point; that she’d begin screaming, crying, or shouting like Macy had done when Galvin died. But no. Beatriz rose from her squatting position and informed Harry and Macy that they need to call the police. 

They did call. Well, they anonymously tipped off the police after Harry orbed all three of them to the campsite that had a payphone—they weren’t going to risk using their cell phones for that. The moments after the call were somber and quiet. Those moments were probably the most uncomfortable in Macy’s life. Okay, the second most uncomfortable if she counted her recent interactions with Harry.

No one moved, no one said anything. Macy could have been looking at a statue of stone as she looked at Beatriz. The teen was unreadable as she stood by the payphone she had just used. Macy didn’t even think she was breathing. Beatriz was just still. Macy wanted to ask her how she was. Macy wanted to ask Beatriz if she needed anything. There were many things Macy wanted to say, ask, and do, but she too remained still. 

Macy’s text notification went off, and her cell phone vibrated within her pocket. The noise broke both Macy and Harry from the quiet moment. Beatriz remained unperturbed by the sound. Macy read the text:

> Orb outside the visitor center that we passed on our way up here. You won’t believe it. IT’S ALL ELDER RELATED!

Macy had to make sure she had read her sister’s text correctly, so she read it one more time. Elder related? How? Macy handed her phone to Harry. She watched as he read the text message, and then as he pulled the phone closer to his face as if to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. They looked at one another, communicating their confusion and worry non-verbally. 

“What’s up?” asked Beatriz Harry and Macy both almost broke their necks when their heads whipped to face her. Beatriz . . . was back? The still stone statute she had just been examining, had been replaced with the girl they had met hours earlier. Beatriz was standing legs a bit apart, shoulders relaxed, and yet with a posture that screamed: “Just try to come at me!”

“My sister says she knows what is going on here and wants us to meet her at the visitor center.” Macy responded.

Beatriz raised her eyebrows in—what appeared to Macy to be—skepticism. The teen then simply took a breath and walked forward towards Macy and Harry. 

“Okay, _vamanos_.” said Beatriz with that original air of indifference that Macy would have bet only a couple of hours ago, was her set personality. 

“I think it best if we take it from here on our own Beatriz.” said Harry in a tone so like the one he would use when he first started training and lecturing them. 

For some reason, it felt like so long ago to Macy. 

“No way! I might not have been able to pick up on anything, and maybe we were wrong about what was out here, but people are in danger, and I am going to help however I can.” Beatriz protested.

“Beatriz, you’ve done what you can. We should take you somewhere safe, first –”

“You know I don’t have a place to go.” Beatriz practically croaked out. 

Macy looked over at Harry. His sad puppy face was confirmation of Beatriz's words. Macy wondered what all Beatriz had revealed about herself to Harry in the short amount of time they had spent without her present. Whatever she had shared with Harry, Macy could tell it hurt to recount. Macy could briefly see the cracks in Beatriz's armor. Just briefly. 

The first time Beatriz snapped at Harry, the recovery had been quicker. Macy did not get a chance to see any emotion beyond the apparent anger and frustration, but this time she could see it. Macy could see the sadness and loneliness in her face and hear it her voice. She could see it in the way Beatriz tightly clutched at the straps of the backpack over her shoulders, though the girl was holding it back well. 

“ _Mira_ , the time it’s gonna take to find someplace is time wasted. Just do it after we find and stop this thing.” Beatriz said a bit more calmly. 

Harry simply looked to Macy as if to ask for her thoughts. Macy could only half-shrug her shoulders in response. She had no idea what exactly the deal was here. Obviously, Harry did. If he was unsure then, maybe they shouldn’t let her come. Then again, Beatriz was right. They had a monster or demon to stop. Macy scanned over Beatriz one more time. She looked like she was prepared for a fight. 

Macy wasn’t quite sure if it was an act or not. This girl's personality seemed to be all over the place in Macy’s opinion. Whether an act or not, Macy was convinced that Beatriz was not going to accept not being there to take down whatever hurt her friend. It was dangerous, but wasn’t the life of a witch—especially with everything going on now—dangerous anyways? 

“Okay, We're not leaving you behind. Let’s go.” Macy said.


	11. The Spiral Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning here: Suicidal Ideations

“Why is it freezing?” Treeci thought as she was slowly roused from her deep sleep. 

She wondered why the heck her bed was so uncomfortable. It felt like being on the hard floor. No, not the hard floor: the hard ground. Wait, not the hard ground, it felt like being on the relatively soft, cold, and damp ground with spiky branches. Treeci’s senses awakened instantly, and she sat up so quickly that it almost made her vomit. 

“ _ **WHAT IS GOING ON**_!!!” Treeci screeched as she took in her surroundings. 

This place was familiar. How in the world did she go from her safe and soft bed to the middle of a forest?! Was it a forest? Treeci jumped to her feet to examine the trees. The trees weren’t that tall. Is tree height even part of the criteria for a forest? That didn’t seem right to her. Maybe it is the number of trees? How was she supposed to count all these trees!?!? What’s the forest tree quota?!? **WHY HADN’T GEOGRAPHY CLASS TAUGHT HER ANYTHING????**

Treeci began to stumble. 

“ _Breathe_ , Treeci! Stay _calm_ and try to figure out _where_ you are!” Treeci said as she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to self-sooth. 

The sound of rustling came from behind her. Treeci whipped around. There was nothing. 

_“You are paranoid, sit down.”_

A chill went down Treeci’s spine. Out of nowhere, an intense vibration in the back of her had her dropping to the ground. So familiar. So painful. Treeci cried out for her parents. She knew they couldn’t hear her, but she was hurting so much. 

_“So defenseless. Crying for mommy and daddy.”_

Treeci gripped at the sides of her head. She knew this had to be telepathy related. It had to be. She tried to think—It was so hard to—back to the first lesson her dad taught her over her telepathic powers. 

“You are in more control over your own mind than you know, Treeci. You get to do what others cannot: build your mind’s defenses from the ground up, customize it as you choose. You just have to use your imagination.” Her dad had said this to her after her first time tapping into her power: the first and last time she had ever hurt someone. 

_“Not the last.”_

Treeci’s head felt as if someone was beating it with a bat. She tried to focus. She tried to imagine. Her mind was a kingdom guarded by a wall that the Trojans would have envied. The vibrations were waves beating upon it. She could see and feel the wall eroding away at the force and consistency of the waves’ assult. Treeci had to focus. She had to replace the worn-down portions of the wall. 

Loving thoughts and happy memories: she had chosen to build her wall from these. They were her most precious and grounding experiences. That which kept her will the strongest, as her dad would say. But right now, she couldn’t pull from them to rebuild her wall. 

The waves kept beating and beating. No matter how hard she focused on those memories, the wall continued to wash away bit by bit. Treeci had never felt this much pain before in her life. Pain and . . . something else. Something scary.   
  
_“Just surrender and lie still.”_

Treeci was brought back from her mind by the immediate sensation of dread. She was flat on her back, and the vibrations in her head only tripled in intensity every second. Her physical body screamed at her. Treeci’s legs had been kicking, attempting to run, but her hands were too busy trying to contain the pounding in her head to lift herself off the ground. Something was wrong. Something was coming. 

There was something in this forest, and it was making its way to her. She needed to get away. 

_“You won’t get away; you don’t know how to. Even if you did, you still couldn’t. You are powerless.”_

Everything hurt, and she could sense that something was getting closer. Treeci couldn’t focus, but she needed to. . . She just needed to focus on the one thing she knew she could do. Through the pain, Treeci tried to picture, with as much clarity and will as she could muster, the one place she needed to be.

Instantly, Treeci found herself under the covers in her bed. Her body felt heavy, her head was throbbing. Orbing had never required that much energy or focus before. She didn’t think she would be able to orb again anytime soon. She didn’t think she’d be able to physically move, even if she wanted to.

Treeci’s mother burst through the bedroom door, “Okay, I know we don’t magic doors open in this house, but I am your parent! And when I have been asking you to come down and answer me for the last forty-five minutes, I get the right to—Treeci, what’s wrong?!”

Concern for Treeci’s well-being seemed to circumvent the rant that Treeci’s mom had intended to go on. She felt Treeci’s forehead and grabbed her face gently to examine it. After her recent terror-filled experience, Treeci should have been comforted by her mother’s touch. She had just been crying out for her mom and her dad not too long ago, but that was then. Right now, her mom’s worry was irking her. Treeci didn’t know why. She knew it was wrong to feel that way, but she couldn’t stop it.

“Mom, I’m fine. Just still tired.” Treeci weakly protested. 

Treeci’s mom didn’t seem to believe her.

“I’ll just call Dad up, and he can take a look at you. Just to make sure—”

“I’ve just got a little headache. No big deal, don’t call Dad.”

“A headache? Have you moved on to practicing your power, because you were supposed to wait for Dad and me, so we could make sure you didn’t overexert—“

“I’m probably just catching a cold. Just give me a minute, I’ll be ready for school—”

“No way kid, I’m going to call the school and tell them you are home sick today.”

“Okay.”

Treeci’s mom caressed her cheek, at her quick surrender.

“Maybe Dad or I can stay home with you. Take care of you. Maybe make your favorite soup?”

Treeci’s heart leapt—it was the only part of her body capable of any movement—and she looked at her mother. She saw the concern and love in her eyes, and it was crushing. 

“No, that’s okay. I’m just gonna sleep anyways.”

Her mom looked disappointed as she pulled away from Treeci. She just nodded and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before walking out of the room.

_"You are a liar and a horrible daughter: a disappointment in every way.”_

Treeci’s sank into her bed. Yes, she was going to sleep. She would sleep all day. 

Maybe she wouldn’t wake up.   



	12. We are Not Alone . . . Which May have been Preferable.

Harry was reeling. He had orbed Macy, Beatriz, and himself to the small shack that those in charge were trying to pass off as a visitor center just as Mel had instructed. He did not have any expectations for what would happen when they arrived, but he never would have expected to be met by Mel and a woman dressed all in white. 

The last time Harry had spoken with her was just a little over a year ago. The Elders had sent him to the Reservation in Lapwai to summon her to the council. He had been so excited for her then. That was before he had known everything he now knew about the Elders and their secrets. How could it be possible for her to be standing there next to Mel as he orbed them to the visitor’s center? Shouldn’t she have died with the rest of them?

“Paulette?” Harry asked his tone reflecting his confusion and disbelief.

“Harry, you know her?” asked Macy

Beatriz shifted out of Harry’s grasp. Beatriz and Macy both stared at the women appraisingly. 

“It’s been a while, Harry.” Paulette said soberly

“So, is anyone going to start explaining the whole monster situation, or are we just going to stare all meaningfully at each other like telenovela stars?” interjected Beatriz.

Everyone turned to the young lady. Paulette seemed to be studying Beatriz, searching for something. Harry did not know why it made him uncomfortable. He felt the need to put distance between the two. The feeling was not his alone. He found, as he stepped forward and in front of Beatriz that Macy was doing the same. They both stood side by side, shielding the teen from Paulette’s gaze. Mel raised her eyebrows at them. Paulette simply gestured to the visitor center door, unaffected by their behavior.

“Let’s step inside, everything will be revealed then.” Paulette said.

As the woman waved her hand, the door opened, and the lights inside turned on. Paulette confidently and quickly walked inside. Harry could see into the small, sad building. He noticed a small bench, a couple of small glass cases, and some information plaques on the walls. It didn’t seem dangerous, but Harry knew that looks could be deceiving. 

“Not gonna lie, that was dope AF.” said Beatriz.

Somehow, Beatriz had made her way around Macy and Harry to step inside the visitor center. Macy and Harry looked at each other in surprise. Mel followed Beatriz. 

“She opened the door and turned some lights on, you could do that with an app.” said Mel. 

Macy gave one last glance at Harry as if to show her displeasure and distrust, before following after Mel and Beatriz. Harry joined them all inside. As he closed the door behind him, a magical pink shield encased the sorry hovel. Everyone turned to look at Paulette, who had situated herself in the middle of the room. 

“As I was telling Mel here—” Paulette started.

“How are you alive?”

“Who are you?”

Harry and Macy didn’t give Paulette a chance to finish her sentence before questioning her. Although her face remained neutral, Harry thought he felt a peeved energy coming from her.

“You’re gonna want to give them the whole story, they won't shut up if you don’t give them the details.” Beatriz said, breaking apart the silence and the energy radiating off of Paulette.

“I’m Paulette Nuñoz, I was the right hand of Elder Jordan before the Elders were wiped out.”

“I thought you were in the process of becoming an Elder yourself when I last saw you.” Harry told Paulette.

Paulette sadly smirked at him, “In the process, yes, but unfortunately, with Elders mysteriously dying, the process was put on hold while everyone shifted their focus to finding the culprit. . . and then, of course, you know the rest.”

“So then what’s with the outfit ?” asked Macy

“I wear it to honor them.” said Paulette.

“To honor an institution that was shady as hell, and that worked against us until it was too late.” spat Mel.

“To honor an institution of women that kept us all safe . . . a job that obviously wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be and that you’ve failed miserably at.” Paulette spoke matter of factly. 

Macy scoffed and blinked in disbelief at Paulette’s words. Harry felt the need to step in and defend themselves.

“There are many factors that have played into our current predicament, which no one could have been fully prepared for—” Harry began.

“I was. Which is why the group of witches I have taken under my wing are safe.” Paulette argued.

“Until now. Are you going to get to that part?” Mel said venomously

Harry wondered what Mel was getting at, although he suspected that, as with all things Elder related, it would be horrifying. 

Paulette kissed her teeth,” I was only in training to becoming an Elder. I wasn’t given access to all the confidential information, but I did have access to some.”

Harry could see Mel becoming increasingly agitated. He could see that Beatriz picked up on at as well and saw her lean in towards Paulette. 

Paulette continued, “Before the Elder’s fell, this area was one of their interrogation sites.

Harry and Macy exchanged wary glances. 

“While there are many techniques and spells to gain information, for extreme cases, the Elders had a demon on hand which they kept neutralized with many protections.”

Beatriz stiffened while Mel, Macy, and Harry exchanged unsurprised looks among each other.

“This demon is an old one, very old. Basically, a precursor to the telepathic and empathic feeding demons.”

Beatriz took a step towards Paulette. Harry put a hand on her shoulder hopes that it would keep her from “getting in Paulette’s face”.

“What’s the difference between the old and the new? And let’s speed this story up and get to important bits.” Beatriz said aggressively

“Unlike the “new” ones, this demon doesn’t feed off negative energy, well not completely. It can feed off of physical pain as well, it seems to prefer it. It breaks the mind, uses its powers to fill its prey with desperation and other intense negative energies, and then lures or forces its prey to come to it, eventually torturing and twisting the body.”

“And the Elders used it to torture demons, witches, and other magical beings.” Mel said in disgust. 

“To interrogate threats to the safety of the whole magical community—” Paulette corrected.

Harry looked at the rest of the ladies in the room, none of them seemed to be buying into that line.

“But that doesn’t matter now. I assumed that when the Elders fell, that many of their protections would have also fallen. So I, with the help of a number of lost witches—"

Mel rolled her eyes. Harry noticed that the eye roll caught Paulette’s attention.

“—searched the areas that I knew may contain protections and then we either replaced the ones that had been lost or destroyed anything that could have been a threat.”

“But you didn’t destroy this threat.” Said Harry.

Paulette looked at Harry and, without any sign of remorse or shame, simply said “No, I didn’t.”

Harry wondered what Paulette’s plan had truly been. If she had been gathering witches and old Elder facilities and “weapons”, he couldn’t imagine it had been without purpose. Harry now had the suspicion that he and his charges would have found themselves embroiled in a war, even if the demons hadn’t united. 

“The demon was never in a cage, exactly, more like a wildlife preserve. The Elder’s spells and protections kept the demon within its little territory and from feeding on anything other than what the Elders needed it to feed on.” said Paulette.

“I don’t have the knowledge to place the same protections that were once used, but I replaced them as best as I could.”

Harry couldn’t help but believe there was something ingenuine about that line. He could accept that the Elders would cling tightly to their secrets, but Paulette knew more than she was letting on. He could feel it. 

Paulette continued, “Unfortunately, the weather’s been bad lately. That weather-related mass depression hit and, without those old protections, the demon was able to pick up on those feelings and make a telepathic connection with someone who had been here.”

“Neeta said Lana had already been camping which is why she thought it was weird she was going again.” Said Beatriz

Paulette nodded and continued, “It appears the telepathic connection was strong enough to create a tear in my barrier spell, I wasn’t aware of this when I sent one of my girls to check up on the area.”

“The third body we found . . .” Harry began

“Sara. Her name was Sara. When she didn’t come back, I came to search the area myself. I noticed the tear, and my girls and I started to track the demon. As I found the bodies, I pieced together that the demon lured in the first woman, and Sarah had tried to save her, but they both died. It must have lured the other later—"

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Beatriz asked Paulette.

The woman seemed confused by the question. 

“What do you mean “as you found the bodies”?”

“oh shi—,” thought Harry

“ _We_ found all three bodies near one of the lakes. _Together_.”

“Yes, that’s where we placed them” Paulette responded

“I’m confused!” Beatriz said emphaticallyBeatriz continued, “I, maybe, can understand not wanting rando, people or kids to find them, and moving them for that reason, but why not call the cops or the rangers or whatever the hell professionals come out here to retrieve dead bodies and take them back home?!?”

Harry was worried that this would soon escalate into a dangerous confrontation. He seemed like the only one in the room not looking forward to it. Mel looked entirely too pleased with Beatriz's questioning. Macy seemed all the willing to allow the young lady to start a brawl with the would-be-Elder. Harry felt Beatriz’s questions demand answers, but he suspected that the answers would only be appalling.

Paulette remained calm and unfazed by the young lady, “My girls and I set up a bigger barrier and patrols around the area where the last body was found. We’ve been able to stop a few people who were being lured in. I figured the demon must be hungry and desperate, and some demons are known to take a liking to human flesh. We left the bodies there to tempt the demon into a trap, but I had my girls pull out when I realized the Charmed Ones were here.”

Harry was horrified. Part of him felt that he shouldn’t be. Paulette had been a star on the rise, an Elder in training. After all, he learned about the process of becoming a Whitelighter, he shouldn’t be surprised by the things one who holds to the Elders philosophy is willing to do for the “greater good”. And yet, he felt the bile rise within him. Mel and Macy were no different. Both seemed a mixture of repulsion and lividness, but it was Beatriz that Harry was most concerned about. 

He saw that Beatriz’s hands were tightly gripping at the straps of her backpack. He thought back to her vulnerability during their talk in the woods, and to those moments where he could see the intense emotions that she was repressing. Would she lunge at Paulette? Would this be the moment where she broke?  
Beatriz stepped away from Paulette. Harry watched closely as Beatriz closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pulled her backpack off her shoulders to open it and pull out the woodblock she had shown Harry and Macy earlier.

“That demon needs to die. Anyway, we can still use this thing to kill it?” Beatriz asked, holding the woodblock out to Paulette. Mel seemed confused. Paulette looked impressed. Macy looked sadden, and from the way she looked back at Harry, he only imagined that expression must be a mirror image of hers.

Paulette took the item from Beatriz’s hand and smiled at her, “Oh yes, we can use this.”


	13. The Bottom

_"You’re weak.”_

Baby Jay giggled at the look of intense concentration on Treeci’s face as she stared at him.

“This should be easy; baby brains aren’t even that developed yet!” Treeci thought, frustration building within her.

No matter how hard she tried, nothing was happening. There was no humming in her mind, there was nothing in her mind. Ever since the incident in the forest, Treeci couldn’t even tap into her mental defenses. Her kingdom—built with care from the stories her parents read to her before bed—and her wall—molded from the memories and emotions that were supposed to give her strength—were gone. Treeci’s imagination had died. She could no longer picture her defenses, which meant she could no longer fortify and repair them.

_“You are powerless.”_

“UGH!” Treeci was becoming increasingly irate at everything.

Even looking at Jay, who was happily smiling up at her from his bassinet, put her in a foul mood. Part of her felt guilty, knowing that her feelings were irrational and not her baby cousin’s fault. The other part of her felt the need to use her powers and see if she could force him to stop looking so innocently pleased.

_“Do it.”_

Maybe she was too gentle with her intent and willpower? Intent mattered. She wasn’t trying to break into Jay's mind, just coax her way in and around. . . maybe she should put a bit more power into it? Maybe she should try to force her way in, just a bit?

Treeci thought of the incident in the forest. She could no longer picture the way the waves thrashed her mental defenses, but her body remembered the pain. The intense beating inside her head and the aches that lingered even a week after. She had spent hours researching possible causes for her loss of telepathy. Even if she had been mentally attacked, her powers should have been fine and the pain should have subsided sooner. What could have done that? Did she have the power to pull something like that on accident? Maybe . . . She couldn’t risk that with baby Jay. Could she?

_“Which one of you is the baby again? It’s just a little push, shouldn’t take more than a little shove to enter a baby’s mind. It won’t hurt him more than a little prick from a needle would.”_

Treeci wrestled with herself. She didn’t want to hurt Jay, but her powers were basically nonexistent at the moment. So maybe just a little push really wouldn’t end up being so bad at all? Treeci took a deep breath as she prepared to try one more time.

“What are you doing?”

Treeci fell to the floor from fright at the sound of Marcel’s voice. It hurt, but she recovered quickly. She picked herself off the carpet and tried to avoid eye contact with her cousin. She hoped he wouldn’t be able to pick up on what she had just been about to do.

“What are you doing here Marcel?”, Treeci asked hurriedly, trying to deflect Marcel’s question.

“It’s my room, I can come and hang out if I want.” Said Marcel snidely.

Treeci scoffed. Leave it to Marcel to think he owns every room in the house.

“This is Aunt Maggie’s and Baby Jay’s room. _Not_ yours.” Treeci replied back in a matter of fact like tone.

As Marcel began to circle Treeci while trying to get a good look at her face, she felt her stomach drop. She fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to keep her face down and away from his suspicious gaze. No, his adversarial gaze. Over the last few days, Treeci had felt a significant shift in her relationship with Marcel. They, despite differing in opinions over pretty much everything, had always been a team. They could argue freely and get in each other’s faces with ease, because in the end, the three of them, Marcel, Monse, and Treeci, had always been a united front. Not anymore. Marcel had gone from just being upset with Treeci’s lack of communication, to being outright hostile.

“This was _my_ room before Tía Mimi moved back in, and I’m gonna get it back when Tío—"

Marcel stopped abruptly and made his way between Treeci and Jay.

_“He’s blocking you from the baby, He doesn’t trust you.”_

That hurt Treeci.

_“He shouldn’t trust you.”_

Treeci realized he had gotten a good look at her face. She knew her face was probably still flushed from the straining. When Treeci got the courage to look at him, Marcel’s eyes were wide in disbelief, betrayal, and fear. It was the fear that stabbed Treeci right in the heart. Marcel was looking at her as if . . . as if she was . . .

_“A monster.”_

“Listen, Marcel—”

“ **WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YO** U!!!” Marcel yelled. 

“ **NOTHING IS WRONG WITH ME**!!!” Treeci screamed.

Jay began to cry as his cousins shouted at one another. Treeci made to leave the room, but Marcel advanced on her. Her cousin was around three years younger than her and slightly shorter, yet right now Marcel felt as if he was five years older and towering above Treeci.   
Marcel was never the kind to get angry. It wasn’t his style. He was relaxed and carefree, though sometimes careless with his emotions and behavior. Even with his hostility as of late, he was never furious. Never truly filled with rage. But he was now. Treeci could feel it like flames on her skin as he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her towards him so close that their noses were touching.

Whatever fear had been in his eyes had melted away. As Treeci stared at his eyes, she could only wonder at what her own must be showing. 

_“Are you going to let him manhandle you?”_

Treeci struggled to pull away, but Marcel redoubled his efforts to keep her there, by gripping her from both shoulders.

“We _never_ use powers on each other! That’s the number one rule!” shouted Marcel

“Don’t even try it, Marcel! You _always_ break the rules!” Treeci retorted

“ **NOT THAT ONE**!!!” screamed Marcel

“Let me **GO**!!” shrieked Treeci

“You could have hurt him!” Marcel snarled through his teeth

“I know what I’m doing!” Treeci lied through hers.

“Remember what you did to Donny Shum!?”

Treeci shoved Marcel to the floor. How dare he bring that up! Treeci could feel tears running down her face. Bringing up Donny Shum was unfair. It had been an accident. She hadn’t even realized she had been using her powers. Donny had been her crush, she never wanted to hurt him. 

It had been late in August, right before school started, when she had seen him at the park eating and talking with his friends. They were seated at one the concrete picnic tables, while Treeci had been across the street waiting for her dad to pick up some supplies in the tea shop. She thought it had been her lucky day: the one day she didn’t go into the tea shop with her dad was the day she got to stare at Donny Shum without her classmates noticing. She probably looked like a creep, but she couldn’t help it. She just kept staring and wishing that Donny would look her way. 

“Please look at me.” She had begged in her mind.

And he did. Donny turned away from his friends and smiled right at her. Treeci was amazed. She absolutely couldn’t believe that Donny Shum was looking right at her and smiling. 

“It’s a fluke, he probably hasn’t even noticed me from this far away.” Treeci had told herself in an attempt to keep herself calm.

Treeci had only vaguely made out a soft humming in the back of her mind, which she just thought was from the state of euphoria which Donny’s smile created. 

“Please, come talk to me.” She prayed over and over again in her head. 

She was laser-focused on Donny, willing him to move forward towards her. As he started walking her way, she could feel the humming become stronger along with her elation. Maybe if Treeci hadn’t been so focused, Donny wouldn’t have been so inclined to cross the street to her without looking both ways.   
It hadn’t been a fatal hit. Donny had only broken his arm and leg, but it had been the scariest moment in Treeci’s life up to that point. She wanted to heal him, she would have, but her dad had, at some point, seen the accident and ran after Treeci. There had been a crowd, he wasn’t going to let her use her magic. Her dad had remained collected, as always. Donny’s friends and her dad stayed with Donny while waiting for an ambulance. But Treeci ran away like a coward and found a deserted place where she could orb back home. Even though she hadn’t known it was her powers, she knew—somehow—that she had willed Donny into that situation. 

Treeci had been so overwhelmed by guilt that she told her family what had happened. They comforted her, but the next day her parents had given her a couple of tasks to try. That’s when she found out she was a telepath. That was the day her parents started training her to build her mind’s defenses and be mindful of her thoughts and desires.  
But Treeci’s defenses had been breached. Apparently, so had her ability to suppress her deepest desires because she was about to lunge at Marcel and claw his eyes out. 

“Um, Excuse me. What’s going on here?” asked Aunt Maggie as she walked into the room. 

"We were fighting.” Said Marcel

Treeci felt a deep panic set in. Would Marcel tell Aunt Maggie? She looked at her cousin, who was still on the floor, pleading silently for him to say nothing. 

Aunt Maggie looked disappointed in the both of them, “What were you fighting about?”

Words eluded Treeci, but they never eluded Marcel. Treeci watched him pick himself off the floor and walk to the doorway where Aunt Maggie stood. 

“Same stuff as last time.” Marcel said as he walked past Aunt Maggie and out of the room.

Aunt Maggie merely blinked in surprise at Marcel’s attitude, but she did not call after him. She sighed as she walked over to the bassinet and picked up Jay, whose cries had de-escalated into whimpers. 

Treeci felt frozen to the spot. She looked at her Aunt cradling and soothing her baby cousin and was overcome by the stupidity of what she had tried to do. Marcel was right. Treeci could have hurt Jay. 

“That’s what you do. You hurt people.”

Treeci wiped the tears from her face. She was about to slink out of the room, but her aunt stopped her.

“I know what this is about.” Her Aunt Maggie said.

“Yeah?” Treeci responded, a bit afraid of what her aunt knew.

“I get it. I know the house is too crowded right now. Heck, it wasn't even made for this many people. This room and Minnie’s used to be one secret room before you were born.” 

Treeci almost doubled over in relief as her aunt continued, “You feel stuck in an overcrowded house where you spend every second of every day surrounded by your family with not enough room to breathe.”

Treeci simply nodded hoping to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“I also get that you’re getting older.” said Aunt Maggie

Treeci was now confused. Where was her aunt going with this? Hopefully, nowhere awkward. 

“You’re fifteen. You want to do stuff like explore new interests and date cute boys. You’re trying to figure out who you are and who you are outside of your family.”

“Yeah.” lied Treeci as her Aunt Maggie laid out baby Jay on the bed and sat next to him. Treeci hoped now would be the moment she could make her exit.

“I am just gonna say this and let you walk away. We all love you, so don’t pull away so hard. We’ll give you the space and support you need, if you ask for it.” said Aunt Maggie.

Treeci looked at her aunt. She felt like she had just hit rock bottom. She was a garbage person for everything that just happened. For trying to use her powers on Jay, for fighting with Marcel in the room and in front of the baby, and for this conversation. Especially for her Aunt’s last words because Treeci just didn’t believe them. Treeci started to walk out of the room. 

“Actually, I lied.” Aunt Maggie said as Treeci was about to close the bedroom door. Treeci walked back into the room a bit. She saw her aunt sitting there on the bed with open arms.

“Hugs and kisses before you go.”


	14. I'm Still Here . . . For Now

“I might burn this shack down with this woman in it.” Macy whispered to Mel.

“I’ll freeze her in place.” Mel whispered back.

“We might not have to do anything, by the looks of it.” Macy responded.

Paulette and Harry were staring each other down with Beatriz standing in between them. Harry stood tall and unwilling to budge to Paulette’s will. Macy had to admit that there was something attractive about that.

Paulette seemed too pleased to learn that Beatriz was a telepath, and she had quickly developed a plan to weaken and capture the demon. Macy did not like the plan. She could tell Harry was ambivalent to it too. 

Paulette made it sound simple. Beatriz would be placed in a small containment spell. She would then take down most of her mental defenses, leaving herself vulnerable to the demon—leaving herself to be tortured is what Mel called it—and when the demon made its way to her—since Beatriz would be unable to make its way to the demon while in the containment—the rest of them would be waiting.

Paulette claimed that the woodblock would work the same on this demon as it would any telepathic or empathic type demon, but that it was probably too small to be able to siphon all the demon’s energy. In other words, they wouldn’t be able to kill it in one go. Best case scenario, again according to Paulette, would be them being able to actually cage the demon with a stronger containment spell.

“Oh, and you just thought about this spell just now? Yeah, that isn’t suspicious at all.” Macy said when Paulette had first laid out her plan.

“We’d have to make sure to cage it far enough away from Beatriz, as not to cage her in with the demon.” Harry had said to them all.

“But it has to get close enough for the woodblock to siphon its energy.” Paulette had responded.

Harry frowned and stalked up close to Paulette.

In a dangerously low voice, he asked, "Just how close does that have to be?"

Paulette seemed surprised at Harry's proximity and tone. Macy figured Paulette probably assumed Harry was the same person she had known over a year ago, but he wasn’t. Sure, he was still Harry. Caring, a bit overprotective, and mostly—where half-demons weren’t concerned—cautious Harry. 

But Harry was different, he had begun changing the moment his connection from the Elders had been severed. His world had been removed of the despotic, obscure rules and fear of any rule-breaking being discovered. Of course, he changed. And of course, he changed even more with the loss of the whitelighters and the discovery of his darklighter.

Paulette’s face suggested she didn’t care for the change in Harry. Macy herself was unsure. . . about the changes. . . all the changes related to Harry. Harry seemed perfectly fine with Paulette’s disapproval. And that’s how they ended up in a staredown, both sizing the other up.

"I'll let you know when." Paulette responded coldly, after what felt like an eternity.

Harry shook his head, “No, that’s not good enough. We are talking about—”

“ _ **Me**_. I’m still here.” Beatriz said 

Beatriz had stood between Harry and Paulette, in front of Macy and Mel, the entire time they had discussed this plan. It was just at the moment that she spoke that Macy had realized no one had asked for Beatriz’s input.

__

****

__

“We suck.” Macy mentally chastised herself and could see Mel doing the same as she looked to her.

__

****

__

“You all are talking about _me_.” Beatriz said again in a relatively calm tone.

__

****

__

Beatriz closed her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking again, “I am going to do it, sure, but the least you people can do is give me the illusion of choice.”

__

****

__

“You do have a choice.” Said Mel as Macy and she walked up next to Harry.

__

****

__

“No one is going to make you do something you don’t want to do.” Harry added.

__

****

__

Beatriz raised an eyebrow at Harry’s words. Macy understood. It didn’t matter if they wouldn’t force her. It really didn’t matter what Beatriz wanted, because Beatriz already had decided that this was something she needed to do.

Macy knew that, unless her, Harry, and Mel came up with a better plan, Beatriz was going to do what she thought was “right”. Macy had been, was, similar only replace “right” with “rational”. While Macy thought Beatriz was similar to Mel in some ways, Macy recognized a bit of herself in Beatriz and that made her profoundly sad.

__

****

__

Macy felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked over at Harry who was giving her a sympathetic look. Of course, he knew. Harry always seemed to be able to peak into her emotions and thoughts. It had always been comforting as well a little bit scary. Harry’s touch felt good, right, which is why Macy shook it off focusing her attention back to Beatriz.

__

****

__

“Let’s just keep brainstorming for a bit. Now that we have more information we should take the time to process and—” Macy said.

__

****

__

“And in the meantime, more people could die at the hands of this demon.” Paulette interrupted.

__

****

__

Mel gave Macy a look that screamed, “Just say the word and we’ll freeze and burn.”

__

****

__

"Diligence may serve us best, and prevent more deaths in the long run.” Harry defended Macy’s position.

__

****

__

If he had been hurt by her shaking off his attempt to comfort her, Harry had bounced back quickly.

__

****

__

“Beatriz, what do you _want_ to do?” Macy asked her, knowing what her answer would be.

__

****

__

“I _need_ to do what’s right.”

__

****

__


	15. The Depression

_“You’re pathetic.”_

Treeci turned in her bed.

_“You used to be better.”_

_“You don’t even have powers anymore.”_

After the incident with Jay and Marcel, Treeci knew—she just knew—that there was something wrong beyond herself. This wasn’t her. She was different.

_“You’re a monster.”_

She thought about getting up to get some water or taking a warm bath, but she didn’t want to get up. That was a lie. Treeci couldn’t get up. It was as if there was a weight holding her in her bed. 

_“Your cousins hate you.”_

“Please stop.” Treeci internally begged the terrible thoughts to cease. 

_“Your parents wish you were different.”_

“Please, I need to sleep. It’s the last day of school tomorrow.” Treeci beseeched 

She had already missed too many days of school. Her perfect attendance record was shot to hell because of her bouts of sickness. Headaches, body aches, vomiting, and sleeplessness. She just wanted tomorrow—or well, technically today—to be okay. Today she needed to get a good night’s sleep, to get up refreshed, and to be able to enjoy the Last Day of School Carnival. She wanted to watch as the baseball players lined up for the chance to dunk Mr. Haddox, the algebra teacher, in the tank. She wanted to stuff herself with the free cotton candy and maybe even go down the giant inflatable waterslide. She just wanted today, this one day, to be a happy day. She just wanted to be happy, just for a bit. 

_"Why are you excited about spending the day watching people—who don’t care that you exist—have fun?”_

Treeci could feel the tears flow from her eyes. She, with all the strength she could muster, turned a bit more so that she was face down sobbing into her pillow. Treeci was just so tired, but she couldn’t sleep. The baths sometimes helped. Being alone, in the quiet, submerged in the water, she could pretend the world didn’t exist.

_"You mean that you can pretend that **you** don’t exist.”_

Treeci didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. _Was_ being the primary word. Baths no longer seemed to work, and these negative thoughts pervaded every moment. She was never alone. It was never quiet. She still existed. Sometimes she wished she didn’t. 

Treeci’s door creaked open. 

“Treeci, are you okay.” Monse quietly asked as she tiptoed further into the room.

Treeci wanted to be mad. She wanted to demand to know how her little cousin unlocked her door and shoo her away, but she just didn’t have the energy for it. 

“I’m fine, Monse. You can go back to bed.” Treeci softly choked out.

Treeci couldn’t see Monse very clearly in the dark, but she could see that Monse was swaying uneasily. Monse cautiously moved closer to the bed until she was standing right in front of Treeci’s face. 

“Wanna have a cousin sleepover like we used to?” Monse asked.

Treeci didn’t have the energy or will to say no or to continue speaking at all. Monse took her silence as an invitation. She climbed over Treeci and dug herself into the space between Treeci and the wall. Treeci made no effort to turn to face Monse; she didn’t think she had it in her. Treeci could feel Monse squirm and adjust herself. 

She felt her cousin's breath on her cheek and ear as Monse whispered, “Do you want to see the new trick I learned with my power? It’s beautiful.”

Again Treeci remained silent, and Monse took her silence as a yes. Monse pulled at Treeci’s shoulders to flip Treeci on to her back. Treeci put up no resistance to Monse’s struggles, but she didn’t put much effort into moving either. Somehow, through sheer will, Monse managed to get Treeci on her back.

Monse let out a breath of exhaustion, “Okay, just watch.”

Monse snuggled close to Treeci. Treeci watched as Monse lifted her hand, and a tiny ball of light appeared in Monse’s palm. Monse gently pushed the little orb upwards, and they both watched as floated up towards the ceiling. Monse repeated what she had done, and soon the room was filled with floating orbs of light that varied in size, distance, and level.

“See, we have the stars now.” Monse whispered sweetly.

Treeci wasn’t sure what had done it. It could have been the orbs of light, jealousy over the fact Monse was advancing in her powers while Treeci had seemingly lost hers, or the way Monse had sweetly whispered to Treeci as if there wasn’t a rift in their relationship. Whatever it was, it had restarted her sobs. And she just couldn’t stop no matter how much she internally begged herself to stop. The orbs of light dimmed, and Treeci felt Monse wrap her up in a tight hug.

_“You are **pathetic**.”_

“I know!” Treeci sobbed out loud as Monse continued to hold her.

“I know.”


	16. "Nothing's Gonna Harm You" . . . What Crap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll be getting some more Macy and Harry as the story progresses on their side. I am still just getting used to trying to write from their perspectives so having lots of separate moments allows me to play around with how I want them to sound as I write. What I've been trying to do for the Treeci's POVS is to have her interact with different family members. I will have her continue to do that. The story is just getting so large as I split up sections that I thought would be one chapter and turn them into two or three. Again I have 19 completed chapters, the rest are just snippets or pieces of chapters that I am continually shifting around. 
> 
> Honestly editing is the hardest part because when you have all these snippets and an idea of where it is going, you still have to realize that everyone else has no idea what's in your head. So I am constantly trying to figure out if I am leaving enough clues or explaining things well. I try to write physical descriptions vague if at all, usually I just don't, because I like to let everyone else create their own image, but then I run into the trouble of not wanting to make y'all do all the work. Let me know what yall like best.

“And what am I to do with this exactly?” Harry asked as Paulette handed him a small white sack. 

Paulette merely smirked at Harry as she waved her hand. The cases of sedimentary rocks and arrowheads—which were apparently not from the area according to the informational plaques—had seemed to melt away to reveal pedestals of weapons and various magical tools. 

“Okay, you have to admit ** _that_** is dope AF.” Harry could hear Beatriz say to Mel.

He refocused his attention back to Paulette as Mel rolled her eyes at Beatriz. 

“There are some knives back there that we will need to carve sigils into the trees. Put those in the bag while _I_ inform Beatriz, Mel, and Macy of the details of how we will set up the trap.” Paulette stated without waiting for any sort of response or reaction from Harry. 

It had been decided that, at the crack of dawn, the lot of them would head out to the middle of the woods—far from the campsites and often traversed paths—and begin setting up the magical trap. A trap in which Beatriz would be the bait. Harry couldn’t fight the unease he felt as he made his way over to the knives.

The danger to Beatriz was too immense, and this was too much to ask of her. Harry could see that Beatriz was no stranger to tragedy even before their current predicament. To have her risk her life after losing so much was unfair and unjust, in his opinion. Harry could not accept that Paulette had no other alternatives. 

Paulette had caught the attention of the Elders because of her resourcefulness and her ability to come out ahead no matter how unpredictable the outcome of a situation may be. Harry had only interacted with Paulette a few times, they were hardly friends, but he had once admired that resourcefulness along with the Elders and other Whitelighters. Now where once admiration was, stood a glaring mistrust and a looming feeling of dread. He feared for Beatriz’s mental and physical health, which was now in Paulette’s hands. 

“No, it is in our hands.” Harry thought as he picked up the knives that they would use.

He had to believe that in the end, it would be Macy, Mel, and himself who would affect the outcome of this adventure. Together they had accomplished incredible, near-impossible feats. They may not have saved everyone they came across—in this line of work losses did occur—but they always managed to save the world and keep the peace. Harry trusted his charges could do anything they wanted. While, as of late, he had doubts over his own abilities, he would not let those doubts affect Beatriz or any witch who needed assistance. 

“You’re brooding so loud, it’s deafening. I’m deaf now.” Beatriz said.

Surprised by Beatriz’s sudden input, Harry dropped the knives he had been about to place in the sack.

“Well, hello Beatriz, what’s on your mind?” Harry blurted. 

Beatriz raised an eyebrow at his question, “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

Harry remained silent, knowing that Beatriz wouldn’t take kindly to further questioning of the plan which she was committed to. 

Beatriz sighed at his silence, “But I won’t ask. If people wanted to share what’s in their heads, they would say it out loud. If they don’t say it out loud, it’s because they don’t want anyone to know.” 

Another heavy silence fell between the two of them. 

“Hey, you guys, it’s time to head out.” said Mel as she opened the door of the shack

Harry quickly threw the knives in the sack and ushered Beatriz out of the shack. 

Paulette led the way through the woods, with Mel and Macy keeping pace with her. Harry made sure to stay with Beatriz. He noticed the farther they traveled into the woods, the farther behind those three Beatriz seemed to fall. She appeared to be involved in her own contemplation. Harry felt it would be irresponsible not to ask Beatriz to share her concerns, even if she wouldn’t want to share them. 

“You said that if people wanted to share their thoughts, then they’d simply share them, but I have found that there are times people have things on their mind which they would like to share but do not for fear that no one wants to listen or that it would be bothersome to others.” Harry softly spoke to Beatriz.

His voice seemed to break Beatriz from her thoughts, and she looked at him. Beatriz didn’t respond, but instead continued to walk by Harry’s side. 

“If you have something on your mind that you’d like to share, I assure you that you have an open invitation to. I am here to listen, should you want someone to hear.” Harry said, filling in the silent space. 

Beatriz stopped in her tracks and Harry paused along with her.

“ _Inglaterra_ , you’re a Whitelighter, so I trust you. . .” Beatriz addressed Harry and clutched the straps of her backpack. 

Beatriz closed her eyes and took a breath before continuing, “If I don’t make it out of this place, then take my stuff. Don’t leave it out here. Just keep it safe. You know, wherever. Just don’t leave it out here to rot.” 

Harry’s stomach had dropped, and his chest constricted. These are not thoughts that a young lady should have. Harry wasn’t naïve. He knew that by nature of being a witch there were so many unavoidable dangers which one must know of, so many skills one must learn, and so many precautions one must take to survive, even one so young as Beatriz. Preparing for one’s death was not one of them.

“You don’t have to worry about that. Nothing is going to happen to you while we are around to ensure your safety.” Harry put his hand on top of Beatriz’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile.

Beatriz gave Harry a skeptical look, “You’re a bad Whitelighter.”

Harry was stunned. 

“How ya gonna promise that nothing bad will happen to me, just because you’re there?” Beatriz laughed.

She continued, “Eugenie told me, on day one of meeting her, that I could die the next day. Her job was to make sure I knew enough not to die immediately in a fight and that I didn’t kill myself or someone else on accident.”

“Seems rather negative.” Harry managed to push the words through his offended feelings. 

“It was honest.” Beatriz responded

“I like honesty. I know I’m basically a kid, but I have the crappiest luck in life. I don’t want you to make promises you can’t keep or sugarcoat the situation. I could die. I just want to know that if I do, you’ll take care of my stuff. Can you do that?” 

Harry looked at Beatriz, “If the worst comes to pass, I will take care of your possessions.”

Beatriz nodded and they continued to walk to catch up with the others, but Harry couldn’t just leave it alone.

“But nothing is going to happen to you. It isn’t a promise to you, it is a promise for myself.”

Harry heard Beatriz chuckle as if he had told an amusing joke, “Whatever _Inglaterra_ , that’s such crap.”


	17. The Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie. This was the most difficult chapter for me to organize and write. I am still not satisfied with it, to be honest, so please leave me some constructive criticism in the comments if you have any.

“I am not okay, but I will be.”

Treeci continued to repeat the words to herself as the sun beat down on her. It had been surprisingly sunny and dry for the last few days. Aunt Maggie made a comment about Treeci needing to soak up sun rays and “good vibes” which had inspired Treeci to do just that. Treeci inhaled deeply, this was attempt number two of trying to block out the terrible voice in her head at the park. 

_“You can’t get rid of me.”_

Treeci had hoped the environment and “good vibes” would somehow boost her confidence as she tried to tap into her powers to expel this voice. If being sprawled out on a blanket in the park didn’t set the right tone for meditation, then she wasn’t sure what else would. 

After the Last Day of School Carnival—not that she went—Treeci started a research journey that led her to multiple possible conclusions. The one she liked best was that she was under attack from an “emo parasite” demon—as her mother had annotated in one of the books Treeci had been looking at. It was the simplest conclusion with the simplest solution: kill the demon. Treeci had never killed a demon before. The truth was she had never even seen one, at least as far as she knew. Her parents and aunts had always kept them safe, and it seemed the entire magical world new not to mess with the “Charmed” children. The whole magical world, except for this one emo parasite. This abnormally strong emo parasite.

From all her reading, there should have been no way for the demon to teleport her into the woods. Although she did posit the possibility that she may have orbed in her sleep. She had been passionately thinking about how nice it would be to be away from her home and in a forest before going to bed, but still . . . the pain she felt when she was there was irregular. 

_Breaking_ into minds causes pain. Forcing a person’s body to go against the person’s will causes **_extreme_** pain. Treeci knew this, but was confused by her situation. That she knew of, her walls hadn’t been breached. They were eroding, but they had still been intact. And yet, her body had been out of control in the forest. Had that lack of bodily control been her body’s response to the pain of being mentally attacked, or had the physical anguish been the result of her body being controlled by someone else? Had the demon already made it past the wall before its attack officially began?

The thought terrified Treeci, especially now that she had lost her ability to access her defenses. That thing was in her mind for sure. How deep in her mind and what exactly it was doing in there were unknowable. Treeci searched through every magical tome in the attic to find a way to kick this mind invader out without telepathy. She tried blessed crystals, protection spells, and even one blood ritual—in which she almost passed out—but nothing seemed to work. The demon became bolder, more taunting . . . more tempting.

Sometimes Treeci just felt so tired. Tired of the disparaging thoughts. Tired of the way she compared her current self and behaviors to her past self. Tired of the internal battle. In those weary moments, the demon was almost gentle, offering peace in exchange for her surrender. . . But the surrender of what? 

It was another thing that didn’t match the description of an “emo parasite". It should just want to feed off negative emotions. It should want Treeci to continue to struggle. It shouldn’t need any more access to her mind than it already has. But no . . . This demon looking for more, and she just couldn’t figure out what that was.

_“Ask Mommy and Daddy to help, they’ll save their helpless baby.”_

“Shut. Up.” Thought Treeci. 

Treeci had considered it: going to her parents. Multiple times she found herself in front of their bedroom door and had been so close to knocking, but she never could bring herself to do it.

In all honesty, her research only began because of Monse. After the uncontrollable sobbing incident, Treeci knew—she just knew—that there was something wrong beyond herself. This wasn’t her. She was different. Ever since the voice started convincing her that she was this sad, angry, jealous, and isolated person, Treeci ebbed between believing and obstinately denying what it said. The last few weeks had been bad, but somehow that moment with Monse had given Treeci the strength to question the voice and to question if it really was coming from within her. Treeci realized just how much she depended on her family and how much her whole being was tied to them. She resented that.

Treeci didn’t want to need them as much as she knew she did. Maybe it was wrong. It was probably stupid, but Treeci wanted to believe she could solve this problem herself. She needed to prove that she could, no matter how much she was struggling.

_“Having fun?”_

No, Treeci was not having fun; in fact, she was so frustrated that she was about to pull a reckless act: to exploit the connection between the demon and her. Her theory was that if this mind invader was spending time attacking and exploring her mind, perhaps she’d be able to slip through into its mind relatively unnoticed. Of course, she knew it wasn’t a grand theory. Without her imagination, she’d be feeling around in the dark for the access point. The demon could easily detect her if it wasn’t too busy with whatever it was doing inside her mind. It may even have traps and protections in its own mind. Treeci had written down every possible scenario in her journal. Most of them were bad and resulted in her death, but she needed to try something. 

Treeci closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Treeci didn’t bother trying to imagine her kingdom. She knew she wouldn’t be able to do it, so instead, she focused on the vibrations, remembering the feeling of the humming in her head when she used her powers.

Slowly, but surely, Treeci began the feel that vibration in the back of her head. She felt her chest swell with excitement. It was pitch black in her mind, but the vibrations were electrical. They felt like static-y currents leading her to somewhere. 

Treeci followed for what felt like an eternity until she felt a strange shift in the currents. The waves seemed to slow down. They felt less electric. It was uncomfortable, unfamiliar, maybe she had made it into the demon’s mind. It was cold and empty. Of course, she couldn’t see anything, but still, if she could imagine what it would look like, she thought it would probably look like a giant freezer. 

In her mind, the currents had been active. It felt like putting your hand on a speaker that was blasting loud music. Wherever she was now was dead space. The vibrations were lethargic, barely there, and Treeci had no idea what that meant or how it would be helpful knowledge to use against this demon

Treeci had no idea what she was looking for or how to begin searching. Again, she was in the dark. There had to be something: something to feel or grab onto. She continued to explore the barely-there vibrations. 

“Uh oh.” Thought Treeci

Something wasn’t right. There had been another shift in the current as Treeci continued to feel her way about. The vibrations were no longer listless. The more she followed, the more it felt like—or what she assumed it would feel like—being caught in a forceful river current. She felt as if she was being pulled, and it was getting warmer. Warmer and zappy, like when you accidentally shock yourself after running around on the carpet with shocks on. Only consistently and like all over your body.

Was this a trap? Some sort of defense? This was so different from where she had been. Almost as if she was somewhere completely different from not only her mind, but the demons, but that wasn’t possible. . . Was it? 

"What are you doing here?" Treeci heard a voice reverberate around the space. 

Treeci felt as if she had stepped into a humid and warm area. There was a roar. 

“Get _**OUT**_!” the same voice said

Treeci was propelled backward at a rollercoaster-like force and speed. 

Treeci’s upper body snapped up from the blanket, and she felt an intense pain in her nose and forehead region. 

“Weird. And **_Ouch_**!!” Thought Treeci

She had expected that bring thrown back into her mind would be painful, she had no idea why it would hurt so much in her nose and forehead region. She finally tuned in to the groaning.

Treeci opened her eyes to find Donny Shum on the ground next to her and clutching his nose. 

“You’re bleeding!” Treeci screeched. 

Donny simply groaned again in response. Treeci was bent over him and panicking. There was so much blood, she might have broken his nose. She looked around. . . No one seemed to be looking. A nagging voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like her dad cautioned her against doing what she was thinking of doing. Seeing Donny in pain—because of her—reminded her of the first park incident. Treeci had to do something.

“Um, just keep your eyes closed, I am going to help your nose. It’s a family trick.” Treeci said, looking around on last time. 

Treeci put her hand over Donny’s forehead, since his hands were covering his nose. She focused on healing him. She loved her healing powers. It wasn’t just the physical effect, the bright light, but the feeling of warmth and devotion behind the powers. Yes, it required deep focus, depending on the injury, but healing had come easily to Treeci. Since she was young, she had been inclined towards compassion and healing. Although she wasn’t great around people, she loved to help anyone who needed it.   
Treeci’s orbing and telepathy had been wonky since the forest incident. She hadn’t tried her healing powers. She had been afraid of what it would mean—what it would say about the person she had become—if that ability was also compromised. To Treeci’s relief, the white light shined from her hand with ease.

As she pulled away from Donny, he opened his eyes and lowered his hands, and Treeci could see that the bleeding had stopped. 

“His perfect nose is still perfect.” Treeci thought

Donny cautiously touched his nose and then his forehead. 

With a look of disbelief plastered on his face, his eyes met Treeci’s, and he spoke, “I honestly thought my nose was broken, how did you do that?”

Treeci giggled nervously, “Like I said old family trick. Yeah, there is like a vein up in your head that can like stop the bleeding if you press on it long enough or something like that.”   
Donny smiled at her, “I don’t think that’s an actual thing, but whatever you did worked so I won’t question it.”

“He’s smiling at me. Am I swooning? I think I am.” Treeci was internally combusting. 

Treeci let out a nervous chuckle which she berated herself for considering Donny hadn’t said anything particularly funny. 

“So, are you okay?” Donny asked her

Donny Shum was covered in blood, after being headbutted by her, and he still was checking to see if she was okay. 

“Haha. What?” Treeci nervously chuckled

She was stupid. Stupid and awkward. Donny didn’t seem to care. He leaned forward towards Treeci and put his hand on her arm. 

“I’m dead” thought Treeci

She died inside the demon’s mind, and this was heaven, or whatever good place existed in the afterlife. 

“Well, you were sort of spazzing-out on the ground. That’s why I came to check on you . . . and then you headbutted me.” Donny replied.

“I’m in **hell**.” Treeci rescinded her original thoughts. 

“But anyways, Are you okay? Were you having a seizure? Should I call 9-1-1?” Donny asked

Treeci’s eyes widened, and she furiously shook her head in response.

“I’m fine. Just sometimes . . . well . . . I’m . . . you see . . . it just . . .” Treeci wasn’t sure how to explain this to him. 

“It okay. It’s a medical thing. You don’t have to explain it if you don’t want to.” Donny smiled reassuringly at her as he squeezed her arm. 

Treeci must have saved the world in a past life to deserve this moment. Donny looked at his hand and pulled away quickly. Treeci gave him a confused look. 

“I’m sorry! I totally forgot there was blood all over my hands!” Donny apologized.

Treeci couldn’t have possibly cared less about the bloodstains on her t-shirt. 

“No, I’m sorry about the blood.” Treeci said, gesturing to his shirt and face. 

Donny chuckled, and Treeci rescinded her original rescind. This was heaven. 

“It was an accident, no bad blood here, although there was a lot of blood.”

Treeci laughed way too hard at Donny’s comment. Smooth. 

“That really was one hell of a trick.” Donny said

“My family has a bunch for practically any injury.” Treeci spoke with more confidence and ease, though she felt like maybe she was cutting it too close to the truth.

“Well then, maybe we should hang out more often. To be safe, since I’ve gotten badly hurt like three times this year.” 

Treeci’s stomach dropped from the guilt, “Yeah, maybe.”

“I mean, we had a bunch of classes together last year and this year, but I don’t think we’ve talked outside of class. I think we should if you want to. It’s summer now so, maybe we both have some free time that we can spend hanging out with each other.” Donny said.

Treeci would have been on cloud nine at that moment if her attention hadn’t shifted away from Donny and onto the girl behind him who was giving Treeci a death glare. Treeci had never seen this person around, but they seemed to dislike her or maybe dislike that she was talking to Donny. 

“Did you come here with that girl?” Treeci asked

Treeci could see the girl shake her head and roll her eyes. 

Donny turned around to see what Treeci was looking at.

“No, I was challenging my neighbor, Mr. Takasugi, to a checkers rematch when I saw you. Also, what girl? I don’t see any other girl around.” He replied

Treeci’s attention and eyes snapped back to Donny. 

“Are you telling me that you didn’t see a short, possibly Latinx, girl in a black t-shirt and jeans glaring right at us.”

Both Treeci and Donny looked back to the original spot Treeci had stared at. There was no one there. 

“Okay, _**plot twist**_.” Treeci thought as she hurriedly stood up.

“I’ve got to go. Thanks for checking on me. Sorry for your nose again.” Treeci said. 

“Oh, no problem, and thanks for helping with the bleeding, umm maybe I can give you my number, and you can call me anytime you want to hangout—”

“Oh, sure . . . can you make it quick? I really got to get somewhere.” Treeci said as she pulled her phone nervously from her pocket and handed it to Donny. 

Who was Treeci to rush Donny Shum when he was—by some miracle—interested in spending time with her? She wanted to kick herself, but she really did need to get home. More research was necessary, and the park was obviously a lousy location for testing out any new hypotheses.

Donny handed Treeci back her phone, “So yeah, call me anytime. Except Sundays between eleven and three, because of church stuff but like any other time—” 

“I will definitely call when I have time, Bye Donny.” Treeci said as she walked away.

She _would_ call Donny _after_ she dealt with this demon and whatever else was going on. Treeci was more motivated than ever to beat this thing, and she realized she needed some help. 


	18. "Not While I'm Around." . . . Sounds like a Reprise, Sing a Different Tune

Harry and Mel were sent away to carve sigils on the trees surrounding the area Paulette had chosen, while Macy cast a spell to cage Beatriz at the center of the trap. Beatriz was sitting, basically meditating inside the invisible cage Macy had created, while Paulette watched. Paulette moved to sit near Beatriz.

"Macy, maybe you should go help your sister and whitelighter with the sigils." Paulette said.

"Oh I _will_ , but I think I'm going to check over this area a bit before I go." Macy responded.

Paulette remained silent. Macy knew that she wasn't going to say, whatever, she wanted to say to Beatriz while Macy stood close by, so she began to walk around. Paulette obviously would know that she was only pretending to look around, but that was good. Macy wanted her to know that she didn't trust her.

Macy watched as Paulette whispered to Beatriz. She saw Beatriz nod somberly. Macy couldn’t hear what she was telling her--Damn! She should have stuck a bit closer--but Macy felt the urge to interrupt the two.  
  
Macy hurriedly walked over towards the two and sat where she could directly face Beatriz. Paulette got the message and slowly rose to do her part in setting up the trap. Macy turned her attention to the girl in front of her. Beatriz was breathing deeply; eyes closed. 

“Are _you_ gonna bother me too?”, asked Beatriz, her eyes still closed.

“I’m really sorry that you have to do this. I know allowing yourself to be vulnerable isn’t fun or easy, especially when you’ve built your walls high—” Macy began.

“I don’t have walls. It would be easier if I had built walls.” Beatriz responded flatly

Beatriz opened her eyes to look at Macy. Macy saw it: fear.  
  
“Telepaths don’t have the same natural mental defenses; we have to build them from the ground up. Which is why it is good that we have great imaginations. Our minds and our defenses take on the form of what we want them to be, using whatever in our mind makes us strong.” Beatriz continued

Macy listened closely.

“My mind is a jungle, no walls, necessary. It’s a labyrinth of tall trees made up of everything that has ever hurt me, so that anyone exploring around gets lost in pain. Pumas and gorillas made of all the suckish feelings I’ve ever felt guard the most important parts of my mind. . . the parts that keep me in control of my own body.”  
  
Macy could hear Beatriz voice crack as she spoke. She could see tears fall from Beatriz’s eyes. Beatriz wasn’t attempting to hold the tear back, unlike before. 

“I am not just making a crack in a wall and being “vulnerable”. I am burning down everything that keeps me going. Everything that made me strong and protected me, I am burning it to the ground bit by bit.”

Macy wanted to reach out, but the cage blocked her. She continued to listen to Beatriz’s lament.

"In the end the only things left will be the parts of my brain that keep me alive, but everything I used will be gone. I will be completely defenseless and powerless against that thing when it comes. And if I make it out of here alive, I’m gonna be just as defenseless and powerless until more crap happens to me and I use that to rebuild, but it won’t ever be the same.”

Macy’s heart felt heavy. No wonder the girl always seemed to be putting on an act. Beatriz was collecting her negative emotions—literally—and using them as a source for her powers and protection. Macy had considered herself to be guarded, but this seemed way worse than all the repressing she did.

Beatriz wiped her face before she continued speaking, “I’ve had a lot of crap happen to me so, it’s gonna take a while to get rid of all of it, but I have to do it. It’s the right thing.”   
  
“You are more than your damage.” said Macy. 

Beatriz gave her a confused look.

“You said you can build your defenses into anything, from whatever makes you feel strong. You aren’t just the bad things that happen to you, plus the electrical messages your brain sends out. So, you aren’t getting rid of everything, the good stuff will be left. Maybe you can use that next time around.” Macy explained. 

Beatriz gave her a thoughtful look before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. 

“Tell _Inglaterra_ and the other two to move it along, because I am gonna try to get this over will ASAP.” said Beatriz

Macy stood up and, before walking away to find Harry and Mel, took one last look at Beatriz and said, “Also, you are going to make it out alive. Nothing’s bad is going to happen to you while we are around.”

“You’re just as bad as _Inglaterra_.” 


	19. The Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So different format mostly because it is easier for me but let me know if you don't like it

It had been a few days after Treeci entered the demon's mind, attacked Donny Shum’s nose with her forehead, and saw that girl in the park. Since then the demon had remained quiet, but the girl . . . the girl was appearing everywhere. Watching her as she looked after Jay. Shaking her head as Treeci picked up supplied from the magic shop. Giving her a death glare as she stood outside her parents’ room trying to decide if she should go in and ask for some advice. 

In fact, the girl was giving Treeci some serious “judge-y” vibes from the bottom of the stairs. Treeci tried to ignore the girl as she sat on the steps. She was discreetly watching her mother tidy up the living room as she conversed on the phone with—who Treeci assumed was—her Aunt Mel.

“Are you two planning on coming back?”   
  
Her Mom’s brows scrunched up in concern. Whatever her aunt was sharing didn’t seem to be good news. Her mother began to pick up all the little multi-colored and multi-textured toys which, probably, Monse left around after playing with Jay. 

“That’s not possible. We dealt with them—all of them—a long time ago . . . No Mel, it’s not like the S’arcana, we aren’t the Elders. Plus, we are on the ground enough that we would have heard something about it.”

S’arcana? Elders? Treeci felt as if these words should mean something to her, but they did not. The world “Elders” seemed familiar. Did it have something to do with her dad or her grandma? She feels like it was mentioned in passing at some point. She had never heard the word S’arcana. For words that her parents didn’t mention much, they seemed to be loaded with meaning. 

Treeci’s mother let out a deep breath as she began telepathically placing the toys she had gathered into Monse's toy basket. The urge to tell her mother not to place the toys there and to disinfect them was strong.

“I’ll have to ask Harry to disinfect everything in there later—oh sorry Mel, I was talking about Monse’s toy basket, I threw some of Jay’s toys in there for now.”

Of course, her mom was a step ahead of her. Treeci should have known if she had thought of it, then her mom had thought about it twenty times over and had a hundred solutions ready. Her mom was brilliant in every way that Treeci wished she could be. 

Her mother continued to speak with her Aunt Mel, “Mel, if you two are right, hypothetically speaking . . . It would be beyond bad.”

Treeci watched as her mother sank into the couch, her face hardened and seriousness.

“Okay, you two check the cage, if it is empty or looks tampered with call Harry and get out quick. I don’t know what or who could be trying to free it. But if they did or are close to doing it, then we will need the Power of Three. Last time . . .”

Sadness permeated her mom’s serious expression. Treeci couldn’t stand it. 

“Hey Mom, is that Aunt Mel?” Treeci asked as she walked down the stairs and into the living room. 

Treeci’s mom looked over in Treeci’s direction, the sadness had dissipated, or had been locked away. There was only a smile on her mother’s face. 

“Hey, yeah, it’s Aunt Mel” Treeci’s mom responded

“Oh, well, can I talk to her?” Treeci asked

Treeci’s mom looked disappointed as if she had expected that Treeci had wanted to talk to her and not her Aunt Mel. Truthfully, Treeci had wanted to ask for her mom’s advice. She knew that she need help with her current demonic issue. Since her mom was amazingly smart and resourceful, Treeci wanted to pick her mom’s brain, ideally, in a way that wouldn’t reveal too much. Everything changed the moment Treeci actually stood in front of Mom. 

There was absolutely no way, Treeci could ask her for advice and not expect her mom to figure everything out and go into I’m-to ground-you-for-the-rest-of-your-life-after-turning-the-world-upside-down-hunting-for-this-demon-and-destroying-it-down-to-the-last-molecule-mode. Her mom and her aunts (mostly her mom and Aunt Mel) were intense. Treeci panicked, all she could think of was to ask to talk to her Aunt Mel. 

Treeci’s mom handed Treeci the phone, “Okay, Aunt Mel is busy, so don’t be hurt if she can’t stay on the phone too long.”

Treeci took the phone from her mother and spoke into it, “Hey Aunt Mel.”

Her aunt greeted her back. There was an awkward silence as Treeci stared at her mom who was still standing in the same spot and looking at her. 

“Mom do mind if . . .”

“ _Pfft._ What? **No**. I’ll just head to the backyard. I was going to clean up back there anyway. You can just talk to Mel.”

Treeci’s mom continued to stand in the same place. 

“So, like you’re going now?”

"Yeah, totally, right at this second.”

“. . .”

“Okay, just head out when you’re done talking to give me my phone back.”

“Okay. . .”

“Alright. . .”

“ . . .”

“I’m going now.”

“Bye, I guess.”

“See you when you bring me back my phone.”

“ . . .”

“. . .”

Treeci’s mom awkwardly backed out of the room. 

“Wow, I really hope that wasn’t as horrendously awkward as it sounded.” Aunt Mel said. 

Aunt Mel’s voice snapped Treeci back into the reality of the situation. She was talking to her aunt and had no idea what to say next. 

“So what’s up Treeci?”

Treeci carefully tried to formulate a response. 

“Aunt Mel. . .”

“Yeah?”

“How are you doing?”

“Ha. Well I’ll be better when me and your aunt are back home, and we get to see all of you. But, I’m guessing you have something else you wanted to talk about.”

Ugh. Treeci just had to get the courage to ask what she needed to ask. 

“I need some advice.” Treeci responded 

“Shoot.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about demons.”

Even though her Aunt was not physically present, Treeci could tell her aunt was making her um-okay-I-don’t-get-why-you’d-do/think/say-that-face. 

“Anything specific about demons?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about what to do, if I ever have to figure out how to kill a demon. I mean if a demon ever came after me, just me, and if maybe it somehow could deflect or disrupt my powers, then how would I get rid of it on my own? Let’s say—”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Aunt Mel interrupted.

Treeci was surprised. Aunt Mel never interrupted anyone when they were speaking—unless they were saying something dumb—and she usually was not dismissive of Treeci’s concerns.

“You never know—” responded Treeci

“No, I know” said Aunt Mel. 

“But, a demon could attack at any time right?”

“Yeah, but you will never have to deal with one alone.”

Aunt Mel had stunned Treeci.

“That’s not true, I mean if I got cornered on the street by one, or if I ever go on missions like you—”

“Treeci, listen to me. Yes, a demon could attack you anywhere, at any time. Yes, you may be by yourself when one attacks. But you will never have to deal with one on your own.”

Treeci pulled nervously at her shirt with her free hand and remained silent as her aunt continued.

“All of us, including your cousins, would help out with any problem demon related or not. We are all here for each other. You don’t have to do anything alone if you need or want help. The truth is that solving a problem with others is a thousand times better than trying to solve it on your own.”

Treeci sighed, “Really?”

“We are better together, more than we could ever be apart.”

A loud crash sound came from the phone’s speaker. 

“Treeci, your aunt is back. I gotta go. Love you all, bye!”

Aunt Mel hung up quickly, not leaving a moment for Treeci to say goodbye. Treeci ruminated over her aunt’s words. She had known that she would need help in figuring out what exactly this demon was, but Treeci had still held firmly to the idea of getting rid of it on her own. Maybe, her aunt was right. Treeci looked over at the staircase. The girl was gone. She left her moms phone on the coffee table and rushed up the stairs to the attic. 

When Treeci opened the attic door, the room was not empty, nor had she expected to be.

“Hey, I need your help.” Treeci said fully expecting to be rejected.

Marcel stood with a bowl and stirrer in hand, smoke rising from whatever concoction he was brewing. He studied her closely as if he was expecting her to say “Sike!” at any minute. She didn’t. 

Marcel turned around to place the bowl on a nearby table and then turned back to face Treeci.

“Okay.” he said nonchalantly.

Treeci couldn’t believe it. After everything that had passed between them, the cruel words, the silent treatment, and the fighting, she expected that begging would be required to convince Marcel to assist her in any way. 

“You aren’t going to say no?” Treeci asked skeptically

“Nope.” Marcel replied 

“You aren’t going to ask me to do something for you?”

“Just one thing.” Marcel said

Treeci waited for him to state the condition. 

“Don’t tell anyone I was up here.” Marcel said as he smirked at Treeci

Treeci let out a laugh of relief, “When have I ever told on you?”

Marcel shrugged his shoulders, “When have I ever not helped you?”

Treeci could have cried at that moment, but she didn’t. She smiled and decided to joke with her cousin. 

“Uh, when have I ever asked for your help before? I think its usually you asking for help.” Treeci countered

“Well then, I guess I’m just saying yes because I owe you one.” Marcel quipped.

Treeci chuckled, “You owe me like three hundred.”

“We’re _cousins_! You can't keep count!” Marcel responded with an exaggerated tone of offense

“Fine debt wiped clean right now. And no more keeping count.” Treeci replied

Marcel smiled at her in a way he hadn’t smiled at her in weeks. It made Treeci’s heart feel a bit lighter than it had in a long while. 

“Okay, so seriously, what do we gotta do?” Marcel asked

“We got to figure out why I keep seeing some girl that no one else can see everywhere I turn, and how to kill a demon that is running loose in my head and seems to be planning something.”

The look on Marcel's face would have been funny if Treeci hadn’t been so emotionally relieved and drained from her confession. 

Marcel looked at Treeci, then behind him at his potion, then back at Treeci. This went on a couple more times. 

“None of the potions I know how to make can kill a demon.” Marcel finally replied

Treeci figured as much, but still, she frowned. 

“Don’t worry! We can fix that.” Marcel chipperly replied as he went to the nearest bookcase and pulled out his mother’s go-to potions tome. 

“What’s going on here?”

Marcel and Treeci turned to see a suspicious Monse standing at the doorway arms crossed. 

“Well . . .” both Treeci and Marcel started.


	20. Everything Else Goes Away . . . Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needed some fluff in here because everything else is about to get angsty and sad :( Don't worry angst monsters I haven't forgotten that these two have issues to work out.

“This is the starting point” Mel said as she began to carve the sigil Paulette had drawn for her and Macy into a tree.

“Every third tree, following a circular path . . .” Harry started

“Until we meet back at the tree directly behind Beatriz, yeah.” Mel confirmed

“How are we supposed to know if we’ve made a circle?” Harry asked he began carving the sigil into the next tree to the right of the center. 

Mel rolled her eyes and bitterly spoke as she started carving into the next tree to the left, “That’s what I asked and Ms. Elder-Wannabe just said that the trap will work if we do and it will fail if we don’t.”

They continued their work in silence until Harry noticed Mel was no longer in sight. He continued to diligently carve the sigil into the trees. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had begun to intently study the sigil he had just finished—perhaps that is why he had fallen behind Mel-, because something about it was . . . off. Harry was no stranger to sigils especially those related to demons. He was familiar with sigils to imprison demons, to force them out of a space, and to keep them out of certain locations. This sigil was most definitely imprisonment intended to imprison the demon, the circle and the inward-pointing lines gave it away. 

It was the symbol at the center of the spell that had him perplexed. The central symbol always varied depending on the intent and the imprisonment, but because of the nature of . . . well nature- symbols with trees, earth, water, or demons as part of the intent had a similar appearance. This particular central figure was unlike any Harry had seen. 

No. . . it was somewhat familiar, he felt as if he had seen something similar somewhere before, but most certainly not in this context. Had he seen something similar in the Book of Elders? Something about his lack of knowledge over this sigil unsettled him.

“You seem worried.” 

Harry was pulled from his thoughts by Macy’s voice. He looked off to the side towards the sound of her voice. She was standing at a “comfortable” difference, looking at him as if she had been watching for some time. Harry must have failed to notice as he had been so preoccupied with his thoughts.

Harry huffed, “Yes, well . . . I was examining the sigil and trying to determine what the central symbol signifies as I am not familiar with it or at least I can’t recall a time I have seen it used in this type of spell. I was about to start comparing the symbol to similar symbols, that I recognize, to ascertain what it could possibly be, but even then it wouldn’t be exact. . . ”

As Harry became aware of how attentively Macy was listening, his nerves flared, and his stomach turned.

“Well . . . I was going to go down an inconvenient and time-consuming rabbit hole of examination which you, fortunately, pulled me out of.” Harry finished smiling nervously at her.

“No, go on.” Macy insisted.

Harry gazed at her surprised. He tried to recover as quickly as possible.

“Yes, well. . .Sigils are essentially condensed statements. The symbol in the middle is truly the sigil, the images surrounding it are part of the larger spell—though for convenience many refer to the whole as the sigil. The circle surrounding the symbol is the imprisonment the lines act as chains essentially, I am honestly surprised Paulette wouldn’t use a spell with a double circle, given how powerful this demon is supposed to be . . .”

Harry was excitedly pointing to each part of the sigil as he explained them until he saw the smile on Macy’s face. He couldn’t interpret what it meant. Was she amused at his gesturing? Was the smile like the smiles she had given him before interrupting him to share her much more impressive knowledge and understanding of the situation. 

Yes, that must be it. All of three of his Charges were brilliant and knew more than he, and they, were aware. They all had grown so much, and their relationship dynamics had changed. He was no longer the advisor and trainer he once was to them. 

“They really don’t need me.” Harry thought

Harry stopped gesturing, “I am sure this is something you already know either from your own exploration or from some lecture I gave that I don’t even remember.”

Macy gave him a sympathetic look, “It helps to have a refresher, and I know that explaining also helps you think through and organize the information. It’s the same for me.”

Harry smiled and continued, “The circle and chains are secondary lines of defense. Because the sigil—the actual sigil—is intended to encase the demon in the one spot, it should reflect demons, probably trees, and entrapment. It should look similar to other sigils with similar intentions, but it does not.”

“Do you think it is a different kind of spell? Maybe the spell isn’t intended to trap the demon?” Macy asked

“No. As I mentioned before, the circle and the lines are very much reminiscent of simple entrapment spells—which again makes no sense given the information Paulette chose to give. I am mostly frustrated by my lack of familiarity with the sigil.” Harry said half pouting

Macy chuckled. Harry felt himself turn red at the sound. He hadn’t meant to sound as if he was sulking over his lack of knowledge. 

“I apologize. I don’t mean to pout about not knowing. No one can know everything; now is not the time to become distracted by what I don’t know.” Harry said

“You don’t have to apologize or be embarrassed about loving magic so much that it bothers you that you can’t a carved sigil on a tree and you lose track of time examining it.” Macy said.

Harry smiled at Macy. There was an awkward pause as they gazed at one another. Harry felt his chest constrict. Longing certainly had a way of pulling at his heart at the most inopportune times. 

Macy broke eye contact and looked at the ground grinning nervously, “I mean I am that way when I am looking through a microscope. You know? Everything else goes away”

Harry did know, but not from magic. While magic subjects could draw his attention for long periods of time, nothing, absolutely nothing could command his attention so thoroughly as the woman standing near and yet too far. Like now, looking at and speaking with Macy made everything melt away. Part of Harry hated that reaction and yet he couldn’t bear to wish it away, any of it. Not the longing, the awkwardness, or the hurting, not if it meant not knowing her. 

“Harry?” Macy quietly asked

Harry shook his head, “Sorry, lost in thought again.”

Macy looked at him—dare he hope—affectionately.

“Do you have an extra knife? I can help carve. And maybe we can figure this symbol out together.” 


	21. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long chapter. might be the longest. Sorry I didn't want to split it up, because at the rate I've been splitting these chapters we are going to end up at 30 or more.

“Okay so, remind me again why we orbed to Portland at ten o'clock at night and are currently waiting for the Red line near. . .” Treeci looked down over at a fountain that was surrounded by homeless people and (possibly) junkies. 

“Skidmore Fountain!” Monse perkily chimed

“ _Not_ what I was going to say Monse, but good on you for reading the plaque— **stay close**!” Treeci said as she roughly drew Monse to her side to keep her from being bump into by a woman pushing a cart. 

“Seattle is full of homeless people too Treeci! Why are you so scared?” Marcel said looking at the small monitor which listed the wait times for the next MAX rail. 

“I am not scared of homeless people Marcel,” Treeci aggressively whispered. 

“I am worried about the fact we are three kids alone, at night, in a sketchy part of a city we don’t know very well.”

In the distance, all three could hear the sound of metal grinding against metal. Marcel gave Treeci a smug look that basically said, “Here’s the Red line stop crying over nothing”. They all quickly hopped onto the line and found three seats in the back of the cart in an empty section. Treeci and Monse sat next to each other and Marcel sat in the row directly in front of them. She sniffed the air and closed her eyes—bad idea.

“It smells awful and the lights are too bright.” thought Treeci

Treeci hated public transportation. She hated most forms of transportation that were not orbing—unless she was on a walk with her dad. She’d admit that the power had spoiled her. In all other areas, Treeci had been the epitome of patience, but waiting minutes or hours to get from one place to another when she could arrive in the blink of an eye made her abnormally anxious. Her anxiety was already at an extreme high given the given that Marcel had given no information as to why they had to sneak out of the house and orb to Portland—and couldn’t orb directly to some undisclosed destination—for one potion ingredient. The mode of travel and the added mystery of where they were going was giving her a headache. 

“Marcel, I’m serious. What are we doing?” Treeci tried to speak with authority.

_“He doesn’t respect you or care about your feelings”_

Treeci stiffened. Monse noticed and kicked the back of Marcel’s seat, which made Marcel turn around to face her. When he noticed Treeci’s demeanor he gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Is it the demon?” Marcel asked quietly

Treeci nodded in response.

“Touch the bracelet and say the spell.” Monse whispered as she grabbed onto Treeci’s forearm.

Treeci looked down at the stone bracelet which Monse had made for her out of rose quartz, labradorite, and hematite. Treeci had overlooked protective stones and crystals during her solo research. She knew they couldn’t remove the demon from her head. They could only make it easier to block the demon's words from her consciousness. When she was researching, she was researching removal. She wasn’t concerned with the disparaging comments anymore—when she realized that they weren’t coming from her—but Marcel and Monse were concerned. Marcel claimed he didn’t want some demon talking crap about them in her mind. Monse immediately got to work on the bracelet. It helped. Research was easier without the antagonizing voice filling her with doubt and confusion. Life was also less terrible without that voice.

Treeci concentrated on the stones of her bracelet, “ _Cordi_ uero _bene_ sibi mens _et_ pacificis _._ ” 

The stones began to softly glow and Treeci’s chest was filled with warmth and her mind felt calm and quiet. Monse and Marcel quickly scanned the cart to make sure no one was watching. 

“Better?” Monse asked

“Better.” Treeci responded.

Treeci immediately glanced up at Marcel giving him an okay-so-now-back-to-our-argument look. He squirmed a bit in the plastic seating. 

“Okay,look, we are going to meet Brad at some park—”

“ _ **BRAD**_!” Treeci and Monse both shrieked

“Oooo, mom said you weren’t allowed to be friends with him anymore.” Monse said

“We were never friends; we just did business together.” Marcel “clarified”

Treeci scoffed, “You were in the _business_ of getting your butt kicked when your moms found out you were making potions for Brad to sell to humans.”

Brad was a young satyr in Treeci’s class who made money selling various “designer drugs” to humans (mostly well-off teens). Most of what Brad peddled was harmless, simple and cheap-to-make magical pills that gave humans the giggles. The issue was that Brad didn’t exactly quality test his products or get them all from one source, which turned into a problem that the Charmed Ones put a stop to real quick. Brad was surprisingly good at finding new schemes though, and last year he started peddling “alcohol” to her classmates for parties. She immediately told her parents. Unfortunately, this led to the revelation that Marcel had recently become a “supplier” for Brad. Monse was almost an only child and Brad had to go into hiding from Aunt Mel. Treeci hadn’t seen or heard anything about Brad since then, but apparently Marcel had.

Marcel looked offended, “ **One!** My potions were **100%** harmless with no real harsh ingredients, they were _quality_ calming and laughing potions, with no chance of OD. **Two!** I didn’t make potions for Brad to peddle to humans. _I_ made potions to sell to _magical beings_ in need of calming or giggle potions. What the buyer did after that was out of my hands.”

“You smell that Monse?” Treeci turned to her small cousin and asked.

“What is that stinky smell?” Monse asked scrunching up her face and covering her nose.

“It’s **bull crap**.” Treeci said looking straight at Marcel

Marcel turned bright red and turned away from them, “Why do you two have to be like that?”

Treeci pressed her face up against Marcel’s ear.

“You never mentioned involving Brad in this!” she hissed

Marcel flinched away from her, “Who else did you think I would know that could get their hands on a Youtan Poluo plant for us. It’s a rare and endangered plant! I’m a thirteen-year-old boy with limited connections Trix. Limited. Connections.”

“You didn’t say it was rare and endangered!” screeched Treeci

Marcel threw his arms out in frustration, “It’s a flower that blooms every three thousand years! Did you think you could pick them out at **WALMART!**?!”

“ **SHH!!** Inside voices.” scolded Monse.

An awkward silence descended upon the three, and each avoided catching another’s gaze. Treeci wasn’t stupid. She had figured that getting the plant was going to be difficult, but she thought that they would be able to do it without involving anyone else. No one else should find out about what had been going on inside her head. It had been hard to confide in Marcel and Monse, but she had done it. When she had, she assumed that—as had always been the case—it would have stayed between the three. Part of her felt ashamed at the thought of anyone else knowing and betrayed that Marcel would share information that wasn’t his to share. 

“What exactly did you tell him?” Treeci asked nervously

Marcel turned around once again to face Treeci.

He looked her straight in the eye as he spoke, “I didn’t tell him anything. I just said I need a Youtan Pluo plant and asked if he knew where I could get one. I swear Treeci, on my grave.”

Treeci gave Marcel a slight smile. She was relieved and grateful. She shouldn’t have doubted her cousin; they always kept each other’s secrets. She thought back to the time when she tried to use her powers on baby Jay and how Marcel did not say anything to her aunt. Yes, they always kept each other’s secrets, maybe even when they shouldn’t.

“You mean over your dead body?” asked Monse with a confused look on her face.

“No. I mean I swear on my grave. Over my dead body means I am not going to let something happen.” Said Marcel

Monse looked to Treeci, “Is that right? That’s not right. How can you swear on your grave if you’re alive? You don’t have a grave.”

Treeci chuckled, “You can’t, so you’re supposed to swear on your life, or on the grave of someone you love who is dead.”

Marcel’s eyes narrowed and he stuck his tongue out at both Monse and Treeci before turning back around to face away from them. Monse broke out in giggles and Treeci put her hand on Marcel’s shoulder to comfort him. As she was trying to soothe her cousin’s ego she remembered exactly where they were and where they were going. 

“Hey Marcel, let's go home. We shouldn’t meet Brad. It doesn’t feel right. Did he even name his price?” the words rushed out of Treeci’s mouth.

“This one is on him, that’s what he said.” Marcel responded

Although Treeci couldn’t see his face, she could hear some level of doubt in his voice. Treeci tightened her grip on his shoulder. 

“Let’s just go home. We can come up with a different plan.” Treeci whispered

Marcel abruptly turned around to face her, “No Way! This is the best plan and it is the only safe one. Right Monse?”

Monse gave him a look of how-the-heck-should-I-know, which seemed to frustrate Marcel.

“It was your plan Monse.” Marcel made sure to emphasize the “your” as he spoke.

Monse looked offended, “It was not! I just said we could use dreams! It was _your_ plan!”

Monse was right about having only suggested using dream. They had spent what had been left of the month of May researching ways to kill this demon. They had come up with nothing. It had been Marcel to suggest that they were going about it wrong, and they should focus trying to regain Treeci’s powers.

It had been a frustrating journey and nothing they tried worked. Ultimately, it had been Monse who asked why they couldnt just use her dream spell to peak into Treeci’s mind and check on her defenses. It had seemed like a misguided thought at first, but it had triggered a memory of a book she had read which detailed certain demon powers such as mind-melding. 

“We aren’t demons who can mind-meld.” Marcel commented when Treeci had shown him the book. 

“I know that Marcel, but maybe we can still do a mind-meld.”

Marcel had looked at her like she was crazy. She knew she would have to elaborate further. 

“You know how there are potions that let you enter the astral plane?” Treeci asked

Marcel’s eyes widened, “Your mind is not the same as the astral plane. There isn’t a potion to get into your mind.”

“No, but maybe we can create one. I mean, there are spells to get into my dreams, which are basically like doors to my mind. What if we modify one of the astral plane potions and somehow combined it with a modified dream spell? To center and protect ourselves maybe include some centering crystals. . . we could play around with those and see what would work best or maybe a protective or opening sigil?” Treeci posited

“You want to create a ritual to get into your mind?!” Marcel looked aghast.

“No . . . Well, I guess. . .if you look at it a certain way it could turn into a ritual type of thing.” Treeci responded.

“Treeci, that’s some serious advance magic: modifying an astral projection potion, combining spells and potions. That’s like genius-level stuff.”

“You _are_ a genius when it comes to potions Marcel?” Treeci said softly

“With the **fun** stuff! This isn’t fun, this is serious.” Marcel replied weakly. 

Marcel looked conflicted and full of doubt. Treeci had never seen her wonderfully—and at times annoyingly—confident cousin look or speak like that before.

"If we can’t do it together, then no one can, because you are the best.” said Treeci.

“I am the _best_. At everything.” Marcel said with a renewed cockiness.

Treeci rolled her eyes but smiled none the less. 

“So, we’d be looking to modify the potion to allow Monse and me to enter your mind?” Marcel asked.

“Yes, I was thinking that you wouldn’t need an anchor unlike with astral plane potions. Or at least not a strong one. So, I figured maybe some crystals to center you and to open my mind up. I don’t know how damaged or intact my mental defenses are, but I doubt they are doing good, which should help us in this case. I think a modified dream incantation will work with the potion to focus the intent.”

And so they got to work. Marcel mainly focused on the potion: looking into different types of ingredient and their properties and which ones would be the bests substitutes. As he changed his mind and tweaked possible combinations, Treeci modified the dream spell. Monse helped as well, collecting crystals and stones that would be useful to them for their plan. No, Treeci’s plan.

That is where Monse had misspoke. It was Treeci's plan. She had to own it. All that they had been working on was theoretical. Yes, Marcel had played around with the base of the potion—to make sure it would be stable—but they had only guessed and made tweaks to their ritual based on hypothesis. Nothing had been tested yet. She had to own this plan, because if it went wrong there would be no one else to blame but her. Treeci needed that pressure. She needed that motivation, that risk. Treeci wondered why. 

“Eighty-second, this is where we get off.” Marcel said, pulling Treeci from her thoughts. 

Marcel, Monse, and Treeci hoped off the Max rail when it came to its stop, and found themselves in a sketchier, less scenic part of Portland. They climbed up the stairs to the main road. Marcel directed them onto a bus, then off of a bus, through Multnomah University’s campus—Monse loved to read signs as well as plaques apparently—and to the edge of a park filled with makeshift tents and, sadly, people close in age to Treeci (from the looks of them). 

“Do we have to go into the park or . . . ?” Monse began

“ **MARCEL**!!” an annoying stupid voice called out

It took every ounce of will power within Treeci not to groan out loud at the sight of a white, early 2000’s frosted tips wearing, want-to-be-in-boy-band looking, sad-excuse-for-a-satyr walking their way. How he could dress and act as if he was king of the jungle surrounded by poverty was a mystery to Treeci: a disgusting mystery. How had her aunt failed to find this loudmouth?

“ _ **Whoa** _Marcel, you brought _her_ with you. Isn’t she just going to run off and tell her mommy and daddy about this?” Brad asked as he reached the three of them.

Other than that terrible moment with Marcel in her aunt Maggie’s room, Treeci had never intentionally shoved someone before. She considered herself a pacifist, even some of the cruelest, most annoying people at her school couldn’t provoke her. Brad was different. He was the only being in this world who Treeci wanted to shove on purpose. She once had a vivid dream about holding is head in a barrel of bleach until all the color drained from his hair. Best sleep ever. Not that she would do it in real life-to be clear.

“Treeci isn’t going to say anything. You got what we came for?” Marcel interjected sensing Treeci’s stress levels were rapidly rising.

Brad pulled Marcel into a one-arm hug, “Brotato chip! Chill, we haven’t seen each other in a while. Let’s hang.”

Brad dragged Marcel into the park while Treeci and Monse followed behind.

“Why does he talk like that? Has he been watching old movies?” Monse asked

“Maybe, but I think he just an idiot.” Treeci answered

Monse nodded her head in understanding. 

They reached a small tent which separated from the clusters of tents scattered around the park. Brad smiled as he unzipped the opening and gestured for the three of them to head inside.

“Guests first, watch your step.” Brad said

Reluctantly they climbed in . . . and found themselves tripping down a set of stairs. Ouch. When they all composed themselves, they realized that they were in a “man cave” of sorts.

"Is this an illusion? No way." Treeci thought.

The basement room was definitely real, as were the television, gaming station, and gaudy looking neon orange couches. 

“I told you guys to watch your step.” Brad chuckled.

Marcel looked around, first with a look of confusion, then with a look of anger and disgust.

“Is this the basement at **_your house_**?” Marcel asked

“Yah, I wasn’t going to be sleeping in a tent at a homeless park Marcel, jeez.” Brad said breezily

The tent was a portal . . .Treeci was furious.

“Are you telling me, that we snuck out of our house, came to Portland, traveled through sketchy parts of the city at night, and risked our safety to get to this park, when we could have just walked a couple of blocks from our place to your house!?!” Treeci yelled.

Brad covered his ears and winced in pain, “Hey I didn’t know if this was a legit favor or trap. If Marcel’s mom showed up instead of you guys, then I had to make sure she wouldn’t know where I was crashing. And the tent portal, courtesy of the same friend that provided your weird-ass plant, was to slip away in case it was her.” 

Treeci couldn’t contain her frustration, “ **You** are a _waste_ of brain cells and space, and there is a special place in **hell** for people with your _lack_ of sense and courtesy. May you get there soon.”

Everyone remained silent. Everyone except Brad. 

“You know, I think you have a little crush on me.” He said.

 _"Hurt him."_  
  
Treeci would like to say that she hadn’t realized what she was doing until her fist made contact with Brad’s face. She would like to think that she had gotten lost in the moment and never meant to scratch at Brad’s eyes or bite his cheek so hard it broke the skin.

She really, really wished she could honestly say that it had been the voice, the demon who had compelled her to continue hitting, kicking, and biting even though Brad did nothing to hurt her back. Later on, after Marcel had smoothed things over, got the Youtan Poluo plant, and they all walked back home—they all needed the walk after that experience—she did blame the voice, but Treeci knew the truth. 

The voice only instructed. She wanted to follow. She could have controlled herself; she could have stopped at any moment. She had thought about stopping when Monse had started crying, and Marcel was trying to pull her off Brad. Treeci chose to continue anyway. She wanted to hurt Brad. Hurting him felt good. . . that scared Treeci. She had assumed that she was getting better. That with the voice kept at bay she was getting back to normal. . . to the person she was before. Now she realized she wasn’t getting back to normal. Something had changed, was changing. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to change it back?

Once they reached the house, she had orbed Monse into her room and then orbed Marcel into his moms’ room. She orbed herself into her room last and changed into her pajamas. As she was stood in front of her bed the sense of dread pooling in her stomach was paralyzing. When this whole situation started, she wasn’t afraid. Sad, lonely, angry, guilty. . . many feelings, but not fear. She could feel her hands begin to shake and knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. Treeci hadn’t been afraid since she was eight years old and Marcel had told her a ghost story another kindergarten had shared with him. Only one thing made her feel better back then. 

Treeci stood next to her parent’s bed. They were sound asleep, which was rare for them. Her parents where usually the first up and the last to bed, but it had been a busy week for them, which is why Marcel had chosen tonight to pick up the plant.

Her dad almost looked like a sleeping baby: peaceful and comfy. Her mom also looked very peaceful and comfortable, although less baby like and more like an actress who was pretending to be asleep in a movie scene. It almost made her second guess walking them up. Almost.

Treeci gently shook her mother’s shoulder, “Mom. Mom.”

Treeci’s mom gasped a bit at the sight of Treeci standing over her. Treeci’s dad’s reflexes kicked in at the sound of her mother gasping, and he shot out of bed alert; carefully scanning the room for any threats. 

“Sorry.” Treeci apologized. 

The both seemed to relax at her apology. Mother sat up as her dad sat down on the bed. 

“What’s up?” Treeci’s mother asked gently.

Treeci tensed at her question. Maybe she hadn’t thought this through.

“I had a nightmare.”

For Treeci, that didn’t feel too far from the truth

Her parents exchanged a look between them. Treeci felt stupid. She was fifteen, wanting to crawl into bed with her parents because she was scared. . . because she wanted them to make her feel better . . . safe. She began slowly backing out of the room when her father spoke.

“Would you like to sleep here tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah, if. . . if it doesn’t bother you.” Treeci whispered, partly ashamed.

Her parents both chuckled slightly and smiled at her. Her mother reached out for Treeci and gently pulled her into the bed as she made room. Treeci’s mother wrapped Treeci up in a tight hug. Treeci buried her face into her mom’s shoulder as she closed her eyes. She felt a hand caress her hair, and immediately knew it was her father. She kept her eyes close. It was nice: the warmth and affection from her parents. All of it had made Treeci realize just how tired she was. 

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” Treeci heard her father ask as he continued to caress her hair and forehead. 

Treeci curled further into her mother’s embrace, “No.” 

“Would you like some tea or water?” He asked.

“No thank you.” She replied voice heavy with sleep

Treeci felt herself drifting off to sleep.

“We love you.” One of her parents, or maybe both said.

Treeci barely felt the light kisses on her forehead before completely passing out. 


	22. Something is Not Right . . . Duh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to put out these chapters with just my own editing skills is rough y'all. I just want to get this out and done ASAP. Hopefully, it makes sense. I have about three more completed chapters which I will refine and hopefully post soon. The last few chapters are outlined and have bits and pieces written, since this all started with snippets, but I hit a roadblock with how I actually want to continue with one of the characters.

Macy and Harry had fallen into a comfortable silence as they carved the sigils into the tree. Had it been five minutes? twenty? Maybe an hour had passed by. Macy’s mind remained quiet until she had turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of Harry. Boy, had that been a mistake. 

Harry's presence no longer evoked tranquility. The sight of his face at that moment had triggered an influx of unpleasant memories: Abby and Harry kissing in the command center, Harry practically fighting her about her feelings for Jimmy, and all the little snide comments. Macy was now a bit angry with herself—and with Harry—just a second ago they were fine. Life seemed good, well at least comfortable. Why did the pendulum of her emotions have to swing all the way back to anger so quickly? Couldn’t she have enjoyed the other end a little while longer?

“Harry! Macy!” Macy tried to swallow the negative emotions wanting to make their way out of her as she heard Mel call out to Harry and her.

Both turned around to see an out-of-breath Mel bent over, her hands on her knees, vowing to pick up a work-out routine to get back into shape. Macy watched as Harry walked over to Mel and placed a hand on her upper back as if to heal her though no magic seemed to be in use.

“What is taking you two so long? I already finished my half of the work already.” Mel said as she gathered herself.

“So you busted your lungs to get back here to tell us to hurry it up?” Macy lightly jibed.

Mel didn’t seem to appreciate the slightly mocking tone to Macy’s question, and she shot Macy a hard look as Harry helped straighten her up into a standing position. 

“No. I did use that as the excuse, but I wanted to know if you two noticed that something is not right about that sigil or any of this.” Mel said with a bit of apprehension in her voice.

Macy caught Harry’s gaze. His eyes returned to Mel just as quickly as they had met Macy’s. 

“What tipped you off about the sigil? I don’t care for the fact that I can’t seem to recall anything similar. If the intent is entrapment it should look like or contain similar figures to other entrapment sigils, regardless of the fact it was designed by someone else.” Harry said. 

“Well, ideally the intention is supposed to be hidden, right?” Macy softly interjected as a why to play devil’s advocate. . . they had to rule out all the possibilities. 

Mel shook her head, “No way. I wasn’t really even “tipped off” by the design . . . I just got a bad vibe that got worse each time I carved it into another tree.”

Macy had been ambivalent to the plan, as far as it’s risks to Beatriz went, and to Paulette but she also realized that they really had nothing to go off of, as far as proving that something was sketchy about the plan outside of vague vibes and a nagging lack of recognition. It wasn’t that Macy didn’t trust in either Harry or Mel, but they had to be rational about the situation especially given Beatriz’s and other people’s lives were at risk.

Macy’s thoughts must have shown on her face as Mel shifted into a defensive stance.

“Come on Macy. You don’t trust Paulette any more than either of us, and both Harry and I think something is up, then that means something.” Mel said.

Macy contemplated the next words she would say. Macy loved Mel, but she knew that while Maggie and her where opposite regarding their approach to thinking and decision making, Mel and her were more likely than not going to argue about their different thoughts and opinions. Mel had always been the most confrontational, and Macy knew that she herself could be stubborn. That is why they often gave each other more space than they gave Maggie: to avoid these eggshell moments.

“Mel, we have to be smart about this. We are in the middle of the woods about to come face to face with a powerful demon—”

“That’s the other thing!” Mel interrupted.

Macy rolled with Mel’s abrupt cutoff, but she didn’t like it.

“This whole demon description is off. Paulette said the demon was used by the elders to torture people into talking. That I can buy. But how does it do that? The demon supposedly feeds off negative energy and physical pain, why does it need to break the mind to do it? Am I making sense right now?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Macy and Harry responded at the same time.

“To paraphrase, you are suspicious of the fact that although influencing behavior and feeding off of emotions can be done over a simple psychic connection, Paulette described the demon as breaking into the mind and luring its victims to physically torture them.” Harry said.

“Yes! And not just that, but the physical torture part, how is it doing that? I didn’t see the bodies. I imagined from what Paulette said about the demon that they would be mutilated if the demon was physically torturing them and trying to cause the maximum amount of pain.” Mel said inching closer to Macy.

Macy heard the crunch of twigs and leaves crunch underneath Harry’s feet. He seemed to sway at some sort of revelation in Mel’s words.

“The bodies were intact, twisted, yes, but something more like being pulled or crushed. No doubt that physical pain was involved, but they appeared to be untouched by any hands.” Harry said.

“Maybe the demon used magic or some power it has to torture them without touching them?” Macy suggested.

“A power that Paulette conveniently didn’t mention?” Mel said having taken a number of steps into Macy’s personal space.

Harry seemed to sense the tension was trying to place himself between Macy and Mel as he had done with Beatriz and Macy. Mel was not Beatriz and the gesture did nothing to break the pressure that was about to bubble over.

“Forcing a body to go against its will, rather than making mental suggestions, can cause pain. Breaking into a mind would surely create enough pain to cause the physical damage to the victims that we saw.” Harry added most likely to aid a rebuttal from Macy.

The comment was not appreciated by Macy at the moment. Macy made to respond but was interrupted, again, by Mel.

“Har, why would an emo parasite torture its food supply to _**death**_?!?!”

At that comment, Macy had to give some points to Mel. Parasites do not typically kill their hosts. With the “new” emo parasites the death of the host was a byproduct of the depression they induced more so than the intension of the demon.

“If it feeds off pain and breaking into the mind, which is within its ability, causes extreme pain, then the death is the result of it feeding just like with –“

“ **MACY!** It doesn’t make sense! It—”

“ **Mel!** Could you maybe let me finish just one thought all the way through?” Macy snapped at her sister.

Macy and Mel were in a staredown with an unsure Harry trying to decide who would be the safer sister to approach.

“Ladies . . . I think we can all agree that whether or not there is substantial evidence of what exactly is going on there is something amiss.” Harry carefully spoke.

Macy took a step back away from her sister. Mel folded her arms in front of her chest and looked away. Macy knew that eventually she and Mel would have to figure out how to disagree with one another without it ending with so much animosity or hurt feelings. She wasn’t sure how soon this would occur, but hopefully, it would happen.

“All I know is that when I saw Paulette drawing the sigil around Beatriz, her explanation made about as much sense as her demon spiel and that's why I almost gave myself a heart attack running to find you two."

 _ **"What?!**_ ” both Macy and Harry reacted to Mel’s words.

Whatever anger or hurt Macy was feeling toward either Harry and Mel disappeared.

“Oh! _Now_ I have a point?” Mel sarcastically asked.

“We have to get back there immediately!” Harry said as he pulled the ladies together in an embrace to orb them back to Beatriz.

As Macy felt herself being drawn into Harry’s embrace, she couldn’t help the overwhelming sense of fear within her. Something was definitely not right.


	23. The Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yall this is a huge chapter and I apologize. I normally split chapters when they get too big from the OG snippets, but I realized that 1) I have split so many that I have used all my snippets for one side of the story and 2) because of the splitting my chapters are no longer aligned (I liked parts of each pov chapter to mirror the other either in action or in information learned). 
> 
> So know the whole thing feels like it was thrown off to me and I really couldn't afford to split any more chapters. I will take criticism as far as things that could have been left out. I mean I'll take constructive criticism anyway, but I'll especially appreciate some feedback about what felt unnecessary or not to you. 
> 
> It has not been proof read sorry!

“Woah.” said Treeci as lifted herself off the floor of the attic and took in the state of the room.

The only lighting came from the broken window and it was a dusty, dingy sort of light . . . nothing like natural light at all. It hardly looked like what it did just moments ago as she watched Marcel and Monse standing over her reciting their spell. The place had been ransacked within the blink of her eyes. The walls were cracked, and the attic window was broken. The door was unhinged, and every bit of furniture was overturned.

Treeci suddenly felt the presence of her two cousins, one on each side of her.

“It worked.” said Marcel as he walked around and attempted to put items back in their rightful place.

He seemed surprised and pleased that he was able to physically touch and gather them. Treeci was surprised as well. While she had expected their “ritual” to allow them to enter her mind with her, she hadn’t been sure if it was going to be possible for them to use their powers or physically manipulate anything in there. If she could have been honest, Treeci would have told Marcel to not look so happy at being able to mess around in her mind. Peeking in was one thing . . . this was something else, something that felt borderline violating. Treeci swayed uncomfortably as she watched Marcel continue to “tidy up” the area.

All of a sudden, Treeci felt a hand slip into hers. Treeci turned to Monse as her little cousin gave her hand a soft squeeze.

“Hey look! The window fixed itself.” Marcel enthusiastically pointed out.

Treeci removed her hand from her cousin’s grip and practically sprinted to the window to examine it. Yes, it had somehow been repaired. That was good, but—as Treeci once again looked over the room and truly took in the extensiveness of the damage—a fixed window hardly warranted praise or excitement.

“Well, the attic had definitely looked worse. Remember when I accidentally blew it up with one of my potion experiments?” Marcel said jokingly.

The joke did not land. Treeci did not feel like this was a situation to downplay. This was her mind. It happened to take the form of the attic, but still it was her mind and it looked _wrecked_.

“Seriously Treeci, It’s not bad. It’s still standing.” Marcel softly spoke.

“We haven’t seen the rest of the house, assuming it’s _all_ still standing.” Treeci said with a bit of bite to her words.

Marcel shot a quick look at Monse. Treeci interpreted the message of it as“Oh no she is in a mood now, not good.” and found herself a little miffed. Monse shifted in place not wanting to make a single gesture that Treeci could misinterpret. Marcel made his way over to the door and began to move it out of the way. Once again Treeci felt a little twinge of violation at the nonchalant way Marcel went about rearranging the items within Treeci’s mind.

“Well the landing looks good.” Said Marcel as he looked out from the doorway.

Treeci and Monse gradually made their way over to him. Marcel wasn’t wrong. The walls were similarly cracked as the attic, but less so. At least the light was working. Treeci walked closer toward the edge of the stairs and leaned over to take a look at the steps. They appeared to be undamaged.

“What happened to the pictures?” asked Monse

What indeed? Marcel and Treeci both went to opposite ends of the small landing. They hadn’t been paying much attention to anything else except the “big stuff”, but it appeared the demon was in the details.

Over the years their family photos had accumulated, mostly thanks to Treeci’s Dad and Aunt Maggie. The hallways were littered with them. Marcel once made a comment of digital photos saving wall space and trees, but everyone else recoiled at the idea. There were so many photos that some had been relegated to even the small walls of the attic landing. Various different frames still covered the walls . . . only some of the pictures were missing. More accurate would be to say that they seem to have faded, some more so than others.

Treeci’s fingers hovered above one of the frames that once had contained a picture of her parents giving her kisses on her 8th birthday. If she hadn’t known what that picture so well, she wouldn’t be able to discern what the picture had been.

“Do you think all the pictures in the rest of the house are like this now?” Monse asked delicately

“I don’t know.” Treeci responded sadly.

Both girls turned their heads at the sound of creaking steps and found that Marcel was halfway down the stairs.

He slightly turned his body towards back towards them as he said, “Well there’s only one way to find out.”

Monse and Treeci exchanged looks of exacerbation before rushing down the steps. They halted at the final step before the door leading into the main part of the house. . . the main part of Treeci’s mind? She wasn’t sure quite sure. What she was sure of was that her cousins were waiting on her to be the one to open it. Treeci examined it for a minute. It was in better shape than the other door; it was still secured with its hinges. Treeci couldn’t help but notices it had cracks, as if an immense force had been applied to it. Whatever the force was had it been trying to break out or in?

“We’re with you.” said Marcel as he observed Treeci’s hesitation.

Treeci just needed a moment: a long moment. She took a deep breath in.

“Treeci, are you ready to explore the rest of the house?” Monse asked gently.

“Explore?” Treeci thought

The word almost had a positive connotation, and this didn’t feel like a positive “vibes” moment. Treeci nodded and walked cautiously towards the attic door, her cousins following close by her side. This moment felt like a scene from a horror movie. The scene where the group of characters is about to walk into a horrible situation involving a monster or a killer. The kind that makes the simple and relatively quick act of turning the doorknob feel like it is taking an hour. Where the slow pull of the door fills a person’s stomach and chest with tightness and dread as they expect the worst to be waiting on the other side. Treeci eyes were shut tight as she fully opened the door.

“Huh, look at that.” Marcel said with a tone of. . . amusement?

Treeci opened her eyes. . . and almost laughed from relief. It was all there. No visible cracks on the walls. Treeci rushed to the nearest group of photos on the wall. Some were discolored and faded, but the figures within the images were still clear as day.

“That’s a good sign, for sure!” Monse said gripping and shaking Treeci’s arm animatedly.

**THUNK!**

As an automatic response both Monse and Marcel quickly lifted their hands in the air and exclaimed “Didn’t do it!”

Treeci without thinking had stepped out in front of Monse. She turned to Marcel and gave him a look that she hoped said “Get ready to move.” rather than “I’m panicking because that could be the demon and we forgot to test if our powers worked in here because we are all idiots!” It must have been the former since Marcel stiffened and gave Treeci a quick nod.

The sound had come from her parent’s room. Treeci cautiously led the way to that room they could hear objects moving around and muffled grunts as they got closer. The door was open. Treeci signaled to Monse to stay back. They had discussed this scenario before the ritual. Monse had to stay away from any confrontation. Marcel would watch Treeci’s back and keep Monse safe if necessary. No one had known for sure what was possible in within her mind. Marcel and Monse may be able to physically move items, but could they be attacked and hurt here? Could their powers work here? There were many unknowns, but Treeci made sure that they were safe enough away that even if trouble happened, they could manage to quickly say the spell to end this mind meld before anything could seriously hurt them.

**THUNK!**

“ ** _Catorce_**! _Madre de Diosito Santo_! That _freakin_ ’ chest is trying to kill me!”

Treeci rushed into the room.

“Get out of here **Demon**!” Treeci yelled and was met by the judging look of the same girl that she had been seeing recently.

The same outfit—cartoon boy in a barrel and all—and the same attitude: no doubt this was the same girl. She was on her knees in front of her parents’ dresser looking mellow and composed despite the noises and commentary Treeci had heard before rushing into the room. She stood up in a relaxed manner with her hands behind her back. It was at this point Treeci realized just how ill-prepared she was for the moment. She had some self-defense training. Her aunts and uncle saw to it, but Treeci had never used any of those skills before. Now, in the moment, she worried that none of that knowledge would come through.

The girl seemed to notice Treeci’s self-doubting and chuckled.

“Hey there. I’m not a demon, so you can relax. What’s your name?” she said with all the self-confidence in the world.

“Well what are you doing in here if you aren’t the demon?” Monse squeaked from behind Treeci.

Treeci fell to the ground out of surprise. . . she really needs to stop doing that.

“ ** _MONSE!_** How the heck did you move so **_fast_**!?!” said Marcel as he jumped into the room and threw himself in front of Monse and Treeci.

“Oh, you have a squad. . . that’s cute.” Treeci noted the hint of sarcasm in the girl’s voice.

As Monse helped Treeci to her feet, she nor Marcel took their eyes off the girl.

“What’s your name?” Monse asked the girl.

“I don’t know.” The girl replied in a blasé manner.

“I’m serious.” She said in response to the looks each of them was giving her.

“Look, my name doesn’t matter what matters is getting this thing open.” She said kicking the dresser.

“Why do you need to open the dresser?” asked Treeci 

“Why can’t you open it yourself?” demanded Marcel

The girl seemed to be getting annoyed with them.

“ _Oye_ , listen up Lunch Bunch. I need to open this chest, to hide _this_ thing.” she said revealing a small bracelet which she had been hiding behind her back.

Treeci recognized the bracelet immediately and reached out for it, “ **Hey**! that’s **_my_** bracelet!”

A sharp pain erupted over the back of Treeci’s hand as the girl slapped it away. Marcel and Monse both shouted in protest. The girl ducked as Marcel threw a picture frame that he had held in his hand, directly at her.

“Give it back to her.” Marcel said menacingly.

“Wow, you missed, and I am literally just a couple of feet from you, _que_ _malecho_.” the girl replied.

Treeci was becoming increasingly distressed every second the girl did not return her bracelet. It was never supposed to be off the small hook on the vanity in her room: it was too important to chance losing it.

The girl slowly walked closer to Marcel until she was only an inch apart from him.

“ _Malecho_ , I’d be careful flinging things around here. You don’t know what random thing is a cornerstone or not.” She said.

Treeci, Marcel, and Monse all exchanged perplexed looks.

“This is a cornerstone.” The girl said holding up the bracelet.

“That’s a bracelet.” Said Monse.

“Okay _Quica_! It’s not…well in form yeah, but actually this is a cornerstone memory. It’s a memory that forms the core of who you are.” The girl in an exasperated tone.

The girl round on Treeci and poked her finger into her shoulder, “And _you_ have these things _tirados_ all over the place for the demon to take. Since I managed to get in this far, I just figured I’d help hide the stuff that I actually can grab. The hiding part isn’t going too good.”

The girl gently grabbed Treeci’s hand and placed the bracelet within her palm. Instantaneously they were all pulled into the living room.

“Hey there’s a baby on the floor!” exclaimed Monse

There was baby Marcel on a fleece blanket in the middle of the living room. It was automatic the way Treeci walked over and laid down next to baby Marcel. This was a memory she cherished and just felt like she had to be a part of it one more time. She began to leave soft kisses at the top of baby Marcel’s head. She had forgotten how soft and fuzzy Marcel used to be. Oh, and the smell of his baby shampoo: honey and lavender. She remembered how much her three-year-old self loved to sniff his head.

“Are you two still here? See, I told you I’d be right back.”

Aunt Mel rushed over towards Treeci and baby Marcel. She laid down across from Treeci, this time Treeci was aware of the small box she had in her hand.

“You really love your _primo,_ don’t you Beatrice?” Said Aunt Mel

Treeci nodded her head and remembered the words she had said so long ago, “I really, really love him lots. He’s my friend.”

Aunt Mel smiled at Treeci, “You know your mommy and daddy were a little scared that you might not like the baby. You’ve been the baby of the house for a while and they thought you might get jealous, but you’ve helped with Marcel a whole lot and he loves you a lot.”

Aunt Mel caressed Treeci’s hair and cheek. Treeci was filled with warmth and pride. . . had that been the way she felt back then.

“You’ve been such a good big cousin that Marcel wanted to get you a present.” Aunt Mel said placing the box next to Treeci’s head.

“The baby got me a present.” Treeci asked, thinking of how she must have sounded more surprised than skeptical back then.

“He really wants to say thank you, he told me so.” Aunt Mel said with such a confidence Treeci couldn’t possibly doubt her.

Treeci remembered the next words that fell from her mouth had been laced with a bit of jealousy, “He talks to _you_.”

“Only when he has something really important to say.” Aunt Mel tried to reassure her.

Treeci sat up and opened the box. She thought her younger self must have struggled with opening the box back then based on the chortle and amused look on her aunt’s face. Aunt Mel sat up and grabbed the bracelet from the box. As she put it on Treeci’s wrist, Treeci was reminded this was mostly an illusion despite how real it felt. There was no way the bracelet would fit her wrist. Treeci had outgrown the bracelet a long time ago, which is why she kept it in her room.

Treeci looked at the bracelet on her hand and leaned down to kiss baby Marcel on the head.

“Thank you, Marcel. You’re my best friend.” Treeci said.

As soon as the words left Treeci’s lips baby Marcel and Aunt Mel faded away. The bracelet was still on her wrist . . . weird.

“You’ll want to hide that one really good. If that demon gets a hold of it’s gone forever.” The girl threw herself on the couch and gestured for the rest of them to sit down as well.

“This is our house you don’t get to just sit down like you own the place.” Marcel stated.

“Technically _Malecho_ , this is not your house, it’s her head. Also, do you come with a mute button?” the girl said with a smirk.

“He doesn’t need one.” Monse came to her brother’s defense.

Treeci surprised the girl by sitting herself right next to her, “What’s going on with you and this demon, if you aren’t the demon? Why are you in my head, how did you get in here, and why have I been seeing you around outside my mind?”

The girl smiled in a genuine manner that Treeci wouldn’t have thought her capable of from her recent behavior.

“I’ll answer what I can Beatrice.”

The way the girl said Treeci’s name was . . . strange. She had it slowly almost. . . savoring it. Why?

The girl continued, “First off, definitely not the demon, I am or maybe was a telepath like you. I—”

“What do you mean _maybe_ _was_?” Marcel interrupted

The girl rolled her eyes, “ _Malecho_ , this will go by faster if you zip it ‘kay.”

The girl continued, “I don’t remember much, only that I am the demon’s leftovers. I remember a lot of pain . . . The demon feeds on your psyche and probably brain, I’m no scientist. I—”

“You keep saying, you think, which means you don’t really know. Also, emo parasite demons don’t have the power to eat more than emotions!” Interjected Marcel.

The girl ignored him, “It’s not a normal emo parasite . . .”

Treeci could feel her chest tightened as she watched the girl’s face scrunch up as if the act of trying to recall memories was a painful endeavor.

The girl shook her head and whatever she was trying to recall away with it, “ It works sorta the same. It makes a connection . . . if your mental defenses are strong it softens you up until it thinks it can just force its way in. Your body is the first thing it takes over. It doesn’t want to give you a chance to get rid of it . . . I remember it hurting like crazy.”

Treeci recalled her moment in the forest when the demon had waged a full-scale attack on her mind for control of her body. The pain had been unreal and the terror of watching her walls being eroded away had traumatized her. . . but she had gotten away. I guess that was an improper way to put it. She didn’t get away. Somehow, she had ended its attack when she orbed away—or something else had—but there was still a psychic connection between them that Treeci still had no idea how to break.

The girl seemed to be heavily fixated on Treeci’s face. Treeci started to feel a bit embarrassed and weirded out.

The girl seemed to take notice and continued to speak, “This thing, once it is it is in your head—whether it had to break in or has to avoid booby traps—it takes its time hunting down all your cornerstones. Course, that’s assuming you hide and protect them not just have them out all over. I think it actually likes a challenge, not just eating. I think it probably likes telepaths the most since we _usually_ have better defenses and are better hiders.”

“Okay you sort of answered Treeci’s first question, but what about the other ones?” said Marcel.

The girl groaned at the sound of Marcel speaking, “ _Mira_ , I don’t remember much, but I know that I was that demon’s lunch for what felt like forever and at the same time just a millisecond. Until For a while, me and some cornerstones were somewhere . . . out of its reach I don’t know how. . .but then a few months ago something happened. I felt . . . a connection. A psychic one other than the demon. As soon as it was made, the demon found me and started hunting the rest of my cornerstones. I think it would have found them all faster, but it got distracted.”

“By what?” Treeci hadn’t noticed Monse had sat right behind her until she asked her question.

“By Beatrice, _Quica_.” The girl replied still saying her name with the same appreciation and with her eyes fixed on Treeci’s eyes.

“It was probably tempted by the idea of fresh food. My guess is that when you made that connection with me, you made a connection with it since the demon and I are connected. At first, I was just planning on protecting what was left of me, but then you found me.”

The girl gently took hold of Treeci’s wrist and ran her thumb over her bracelet. Without looking his way, Treeci could feel Marcel stiffen at the girl’s movements. Treeci could also feel Monse’s hand grasp at the back of her shirt.

“All my cornerstones except for one were gone at that point. I was ticked off that you had gotten so close to it even if you weren’t the demon, but when I forced you out of wherever I was . . . I was pulled into that attic with my cornerstone.”

“Did you make the mess in the attic?” asked Monse as she “sneakily” tried to pull Treeci’s hand away from the girl’s touch.

The girl gently pulled back her hand and placed her arm on the back of the couch, “No. There isn’t enough of me to trash any part of this place. I was pulling muscles trying to get one drawer open. The only reason I probably slipped through is because there isn’t much of me left and I was attached to Beatrice. The attic was mostly fine when I was in there. The walls were really cracked, but the window wasn’t broken yet and stuff inside the place was all good.”

The girl patted Treeci’s shoulder, “The walls of this place are like titanium strong. I’m impressed considering how hard this demon has probably been coming for you. You’d think it would have busted in sooner.”

“Treeci is amazing.” Monse said matter-of-factly.

Marcel nodded in agreement.

“Well don’t y’all celebrate. I am less impressed with the interior. You have like the bare minimum defenses. I get that you probably been working on building those walls Mr. President, but maybe you should focus getting Flint some clean water.”

“What?” Monse and Marcel asked simultaneously.

The girl let out a sigh, “I found like twenty cornerstone memories in the attic just out in the open.”

Treeci’s eyes widened in panic thinking of current state of the attic. The girl took notice.

“Lucky for you, I have some mobility around here. When I realized that I could pick up things and move around a bit I grabbed as many cornerstone memories as I could and got them the heck out of there. Been in here trying to hide them as best as I can which is hard since I don’t really have the power to “hide” things in this place. Mostly just been moving stuff around, but I can’t open drawers or cabinets . . . or most of the doors.”

“How did you get out of the attic then and into my _Tíos’_ room?” the suspicion and hostility shot out of Marcel like arrows as he questioned the girl.

“I used what little of my powers I have to convince the doors to open. There isn’t enough of me to force my way in or just pull open anything, but the right set of thoughts spread throughout a door works. Each door is different, I got lucky with the first attic door. I must have had _todos los santos_ on my side with the second door, because the demon broke into the attic while I was working on opening it. It couldn’t get past the second door even though I did. It hasn’t been back since; I think it’s probably looking for me out wherever I was. If it finds out I’m here it will go ham to get in.”

“Ham?” a perplexed Monse repeated

The girl ignored Monse’s confusion and stood up from the couch her gaze focused intensely on Treeci once more.

“I think that was all your questions. No wait! You have been seeing me around because I’ve been trying to see if I could impose images in a mind. I used to be able to do that. I didn’t think there was enough left of me _to_ do it. I was right, I could only do a crappy self-image. I used to be able to do more . . . at least I am like 75% sure I could. Beatrice—"

“I don’t care about that anymore!” Treeci interjected as she stood up from the couch and was face-to-face—well sort of, Treeci didn’t realize how much shorter the girl was until this moment—with the girl. 

“I feel like I just have more questions after all that you told us like what do you mean there isn’t enough left of you? Also, where are you? I mean you aren’t here, here any more than we are really here. Where is the demon? Is it in that forest? How am I supposed hide anything in here when my powers **_aren’t working_** !? If the demon isn’t actually in here, and where you were isn’t where it actually is, then how do I get to it!?! **_AND WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SAY MY NAME LIKE THAT_**!?!?!”

“Hold up! One, I already said the demon feeds on the cornerstones. Once all those are gone, _you_ are gone. Your body is just an empty shell. . . I think. I haven’t been connected to my body for a long time, I don’t know how long, so don’t ask. Being completely real right now, I am just trying to be someone I don’t know based on the last cornerstone. Other memories that aren’t cornerstones are mostly gone. All I got is best guesses based on small flashes of memory, and the rest is based on what I know from recent experience.”

Treeci, Marcel, and Monse were stunned silent by the girl’s words. Treeci couldn’t imagine what that must be like. She practically spiraled out of control when her relationship with her family and her sense of self were damaged. No way she could keep it as together as this girl if actual pieces of herself were gone forever.

The girl rolled her eyes at the silence that had befallen the three, “Don’t cry for me Argentina. Two, since I haven’t been connected to my body in forever, I have no idea where it is or where the demon is. It might be in a forest . . . I think I remember trees.”

“My name’s not Argentina,” Monse whispered sadly

Treeci folded her arms in front of her chest. This absolutely sucked. The girl gave Treeci a sympathetic look that almost made her ashamed of her self-centeredness.

“Three, if your powers aren’t working, that’s not the demon’s doing…not directly. Powers come from our emotions and personality. Even with people who share power types, it isn’t the same. Unless you’ve been stripped of your powers or are in an area with magic blockers, your powers should work. Maybe your triggers have changed as you’ve grown or something else is interfering? I think I remember someone saying that can happen?”

“This isn’t Treeci’s fault!” Monse said in an angry tone that Treeci hadn’t ever thought her capable of.

“I didn’t say it was _Quica_. Four, if you want to get rid of the demon, you’ll have to kill it. I think . . . I feel that wherever I am that’s were the demon is, but . . . if you do kill it, then I am done for. I think the only reason I am still here is because of the demon somehow which is weird.”

“You don’t want us to kill it.” Marcel said

The girl had a relatively cool appearance and demeanor throughout their interactions, but at that moment Treeci could swear that she felt a flash of anger and disgust emanate from her.

“Go for it. I just don’t know how to help you. I think you’ll need some really powerful magic to do it. And sorry to say this to you Lunch Bunch, but y’all don’t have needed mojo.” She said coldly

Marcel looked like he was about to say something in response, but Monse—how did she walk over to him so fast and silently?—gave him a swift swat to the stomach.

“Is there any way to kill the demon without killing you?” Treeci asked

The girl once again fixated on Treeci’s face and raised her shoulder’s in a I-don’t-know-fashion.

The girl gave Treeci a casual, yet sad smile,” You are not a smart girl.”

All three cousins were stunned.

“Even if there was a way, there isn’t much of me left to save. You don’t even know if I’d be a functioning being. The demon has made it into your mind before, even if the damage wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. It will try again. It’s better to kill it before then. I’m finished either way. “

Treeci couldn’t accept that, but she knew there would be no point in arguing. She continued to practically hug herself as she nodded at Marcel and Monse. It was time to get back. Her cousins traveled over to her. Monse gave Treeci a quick hug as Treeci gave the girl a quick nod goodbye.

“Wait.” The girl said “Five, I like saying your name just like I like your face. There’s just something familiar about them. Nothing’s felt familiar in a really long time.”

Treeci soaked in the girl’s words. She was going to find a way to save this girl. There had to be a way to save her.

............................................................................................... 

**_TWACK!_ **

One of Treeci’s pillows flew across the room, missing her by just a few inches. Unfortunately, it did hit her vanity with alarming speed and force.

“Seriously Marcel!”

“Seriously Treeci!”

Marcel had a bad habit of using his powers to launch random objects at people to surprise them. Normally, it was good-natured “fun”. The objects were soft and not hurled with so much force and Marcel always missed on purpose. This time Treeci had a suspicion that the miss wasn’t so intentional, given they had been arguing for a good two hours in her room.

“Treeci, we need to tell our parents, **_right now_**!” Marcel insisted for the hundredth time.

“No, Marcel, I think we can find something to work with to save that girl. We can adapt something like we did bef—”

“Treeci! We’ve looked at all the books, there is nothing in our house that we have the power to do that can save her. Heck we don’t even know how to kill that demon! We need your parents, my parents, and Tía—”

“Well maybe we need to look outside the house.”

Marcel looked confused.

“Maybe we need to look outside our normal reading range to find something that will work.”

Marcel’s eyes went wide in disbelief and fear as he caught the gist of what Treeci was implying.

“You want to look into using dark magic?” Marcel whispered

“I want to look into anything that will save that girl and put down that demon for good.” Treeci stated.

“No.” Marcel spoke the word with more seriousness and conviction than Treeci had ever heard from him.

“I mean it Treeci. None of us are going to mess with dark magic. If you try it. . . I’ll tell Tía Macy everything.”

They were at an impasse: a very painful and isolating impasse.

“Fine, but I am going to keep looking for a way to help her. I don’t need your help to do it.” Treeci attempted to conceal the hurt in her voice, but it didn’t work.

Marcel looked away from Treeci, “Fine, but you have to promise to tell us, _all of us_ , if things get worse. You _have_ to swear it.”

“Okay, I swear.”

They both remained still and quiet until a knock at the door shook them out of it.

“Come in.” they both said.

Treeci’s dad smiled at them as he opened the door and looked between them, “I know it’s summer, but bedtime rules still apply.”

Marcel and Treeci nodded their agreements—which seemed to surprise Treeci’s dad at least where Marcel was concerned—and Marcel was gently herded out of the room. Before closing the door Treeci and her dad exchanged their goodnights and I-love-yous. It was half-hearted on her part, because of the guilt. . . the guilt of lying to her cousin.

Instead of preparing for bed, Treeci prepared to do the one thing she had swore never to do.

She took a few very deep, calming breaths as she orbed herself a couple of blocks up the street.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Let me get this straight, _you_ need _my_ help to locate a boss-level-demon.”

Treeci nodded her head and shifted uncomfortably on Brad’s obnoxiously bright orange couch. Brad was standing in front of Treeci, looking down at her as if he was having a hard time understanding the world that had previously fallen out of her mouth when she first forced her way into his house.

Brad raised his eyebrows and continued, “And _you_ want _me_ to stock you up with dark magic spells and some mega illegal weapons—”

Treeci stopped him there.

“No, I need you to “stock me up” with anything you think would help me split a demon’s consciousness from a person and then kill the demon.” Treeci interjected.

“Dark magic and mega illegal weapons.” Brad stated patronizingly looking at Treeci as if she had no sense.

“But I also need back up.” Treeci added

“ **Ha!** _Laughing face._ Bro, I don’t do backup. I am more of a solo star. . . a solo star that wants to live. Just get your mommy and daddy to get rid of the demon, It—"

“Can you not be a jerk for like five seconds! This isn’t just about killing the demon: it’s about saving a girl’s life. I told you everything. You know my cousins don’t want to help and I can’t go to my parents or aunts because they might just want to kill the demon if they think the girl can’t be saved.” Treeci was fighting back tears.

She refused to cry in front of this jerk. Brad’s eyes gave Treeci a thoughtful once over before he plopped himself _right_ next to her and man spread further into her personal space.

His closeness made Treeci cringe a bit, but Brad continued to invade more of her personal bubble until their noses were touching. . . gross.

“Hey look at me. Look me in the eyes because what I am about to say is important.” Brad insisted as he used his hands to keep Treeci’s face in place.

“I am going to help you in return for a favor to be named in the future. Okay now pay attention because this is the contract part of the deal. I, Brad, will get Treeci, that’s you, some super-badass-mega-illegal weapons and wards and access to some super-powerful dark magic. I, Brad, will also roll up on the demon with Treeci, you again, but Brad, that’s me, is not obligated to stick around if shit hits the fan and is not responsible for the probably inevitable and painful death of Treeci, you, at the hands of the demon. Nod if you agree to the terms . . . I’m not letting go of your face until you nod.”

Treeci nodded her head and swatted away Brad’s hands.

“If you grab me like that again, I will bite your face like I did before.” Treeci threatened

“Sounds fair.” The sarcasm dripped off of Brad’s words.

“It is Brad. It’s more than fair.” Treeci spit back.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. I deleted the first because I was having a heck of a time editing it. So I actually have most of this story finished. It's been ready to go since the end of January, but I am waiting for some feedback on most of the chapters. I am going to upload what I have gotten feedback on, so there will probably be some differences from the first one I uploaded. But it should be mostly the same: story-wise.
> 
> If anyone wants to give me feedback on the completed chapter's I haven't posted. Let me know and I'll send them to you. the story is going through some reworking so it may be a bit different if you read the first time I posted.


End file.
